


please, let the light warm me

by cosmicrhetoric



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/F, F/M, Slow Burn, half these ships may not even be endgame its just what im thinking about right now, like slow slow burn like this is gonna be a seven year progress, no one is straight fyi i mean lets be real, the hp au that everyone wanted
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-05-04 09:58:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 80,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5329934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicrhetoric/pseuds/cosmicrhetoric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>When Aelin sat on that stool, the Sorting Hat spoke to her in a calm, steady voice for nearly five minutes straight. It told her that she was loyal and smart and cunning and brave, and she told it that it was wrong.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Because sometimes, blood isn't enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Destiny

**Author's Note:**

> WELL HERE IT IS. Or at least here's the preface. Chapter one is like half done gimme some time. Okay some notes: I messed with the ages a lot. Nehemia and Archer Finn are fourth years, but everyone else in the main cast is either a first or second year.  
> Terrasen's Court is like a cool pureblood club for a bunch of bloodlines with ties to fae blood.  
> The Ironteeth Witches are basically the Malfoys, only less racist and with more composite bloodlines.  
> Adarlan is basically Voldemort. It's a term for one man, the King of Adarlan, but Dorian and Hollin are still his sons.  
> Ellywe's persecution is a little iffy here. It'll be more clear later. 
> 
> Okay you're free to go!

Preface- Destiny

or

"A Lengthy Game of Chess"

 

People thought she was lying when she said she didn't know what House she was going to end up in. Even Aedion, back then, was so surprised at the length of her sorting. But her father was in Ravenclaw, and her mother in Gryffindor, and she didn't care.

Everyone knew  _ _that__ , at least. She didn't care, she was so wrapped up in her own beliefs and self-importance that the Houses didn't matter to her one bit. However, people still insisted that from the second Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, age 11, stalked into the Great Hall on September first, they knew where she'd end up. 

( _"I look good in red,"_  she would say years later.  _"That's all it was."_   But by then they knew she was lying.)

When Aelin sat on that stool, the Sorting Hat spoke to her in a calm, steady voice for nearly five minutes straight. It told her that she was loyal and smart and cunning and brave, and she told it that it was wrong. It was wrong, but her father spoke very highly of the Sorting Hat, and so she'd listen to wherever it decided to put her. It told her she was a little humble for Slytherin, and she told him she was anything but. At the three minute mark, the Sorting Hat asked her if she was purposely trying to perplex it. Aelin laughed, thereby greatly confusing the students lined up in a row in front of her, but said no. 

_Slytherin, then,_ said the Hat in a small voice in her ear. But it saw her as raw, raw potential. Aelin had that dark spark behind her eyes, that ruthlessness that was very, very silver and green. But the rest of her, not to mention her illustrious lineage and her pure goodness and idealism was the opposite. It was a delicate balance, the thin edge of a coin that threatened to fall either way. 

Long story short, Aelin was a hatstall to end all hatstalls. 

_Slytherin,_ said the Sorting Hat, sounding positively excited with a challenge.  _Or, if you really want that tight knit community of friends I would go Gryffindor._

"No," Aelin whispered. "I don't care much about the friends."

_And you'd like the challenge of working your way up in society? So Slytherin?_

"That sounds fun." Aelin agreed. "But-"

_But what, child?_

"My, um, my cousin."

_Aedion Ashryver. I sorted him in about three seconds, child._

"He's in Gryffindor. I want to-he was my best friend. I want to see him. More, I mean, I know he's older, but I want to see him."

The Sorting Hat sighed in her ear. _Aelin Galathynius, are you sure?_

"No."

_You know you'l l excel no matter where you are. It' s in your blood._

"That's enough  about my blood."

_Yes, I think I quite agree. For you, it'll have to be-_ "GRYFFINDOR!"

Aelin pushed the hat off her head, smiling triumphantly at the sighs of the first years and the enthusiastic clapping of her cousin's friends. She flounced off the dais and sat confidently across from Aedion, and they smiled identical, terrifying, grins at each other. The rest of the first years joined her slowly, and no one seemed to beat the five minute and thirty-eight second long Sorting record Aelin had just set.

(Aedion had timed it, the absolute fool.)

The boy next to her was named Chaol, and there was a quiet girl next to him who quietly introduced herself as 'Faliq'.

Her cousin took her hand gently and pointed to the small girl being sorted. Her long dark hair hung in front of her face in waves.

"That's one of ours." he said quietly. "Cal's daughter."

Another girl of Terrasen? Terrasen's court was a small group of purebloods grouped by their shared links to fae ancestry. They were currently led by the Ashryver and Galathynius bloodlines, which meant that Aelin was basically Terrasen's baby.

"Elide, right?" asked Aelin as the girl went to Slytherin.

"Yeah. A lot of us went to Slytherin, you know?" he said, grinning. "A, you may like them now, but just wait until Quidditch season."

Aelin laughed. "Slytherin, huh?"

* * *

(Bad Girls Club)

Manon Blackbeak somehow already looked like she owned the Slytherin table. It was true, no Blackbeak (no  _ _Ironteeth__  Blackbeak) had ever gone to any of the other three houses. And Manon knew without a doubt that she belonged here.

Her cousin, Asterin, was still waiting to be Sorted, but her some of her girls from back home had already surrounded her. Falline and Fallon were seated to her immediate right, and Lin and Imogen mirrored them to her other side. Ghislaine had immediately been placed in Ravenclaw, but they all knew that was going to happen.Vesta and Sorrel had been placed in Gryffindor, a surprise on Sorrel's part, but not Vesta's. Manon was pretty sure Asterin would join them, but she held out hope that her friend would land in Slytherin with her.

Her people continued to be separated. Thea and Kaya joined Ghislaine, while Edda and Briar were actually sorted into Hufflepuff. Manon covered her smirk in a lace handkerchief. And finally, Asterin stepped up, determination in her gold eyes.

The Sorting Hat took a minute, before it placed her in Hufflepuff.

Manon choked on the handkerchief, slamming her palm on the flat of the table. A second year with hair as silver as hers glowered at her.

"Can it, Whitethorn," she hissed, still staring daggers at Asterin. The blonde walked with dignity towards the honey table, glancing once at Manon. Their eyes met. Asterin seemed to be pleading, quietly, but it was too late.

Manon grinned, absolutely predatory. Asterin! Her bold Asterin, out there with the useless Puffs and the muggleborns and the wretched blood traitors (barring Edda and Briar, of course). She was _never_ going to live this down.

Just then, two girls joined the Slytherin table. They both had waves of dark hair, but the similarity stopped there. One walked with her head held high, already winking foolishly at the other students with bright green eyes. The other wore her hair lank and in front of her face, and she made eye contact with no one.

“Lysandra.” said the confident one, nodding at Manon. “Good to meet you.”

Manon was silent for a long time. The girl didn't offer a surname. “Manon Blackbeak. Who're you?”

Here she spoke to the quiet one.

“Elide.”

She met Manon's eyes then, and despite the unassuming manner, Manon could detect a little intelligence behind those eyes, and she didn't object as both girls sat down in front of her.

* * *

 (Please Pretend)

Dorian Havilliard seemed to have a charming smile for everyone at the Ravenclaw table, which he had just joined. He shot Chaol a smile and a shrug where he sat, slumped against the Gryffindor table. They both knew Chaol was destined for Gryffindor, and that there was very little chance of Dorian  _not_ being placed in Ravenclaw. It still stung to be far apart, though. 

He looked around. He was sitting next to a pretty girl with brown hair and skin, who was quietly listening to two upperclassmen talk about classes. 

"Hi." said Dorian, offering her his hand. The girl turned, startled, her eyes wide. She settled into a smile, and took his hand. 

"Hello."

"I'm Dorian."

"Sorscha." 

"Nice to meet you, Sorscha." said Dorian. She had startlingly pretty eyes. "Are you excited about Hogwarts?"

Sorscha laughed. "Of course, aren't you? It's all I've thought about for the last few months."

" _Months_ _?_ I've been thinking of it most my life."

"That was some song." commented Sorscha, nodding at the Sorting Hat. "It really added to the hype, I think."

"Quite. I mean, I didn't need the song. My friend Chaol told me I was gonna get into Ravenclaw a long time ago, and I guess he was right."

"I didn't know a single thing about the Houses before it."

"No? What did you parents tell you?"

Sorscha's expression tightened infinitesimally. But before Dorian could retract or comment, she smiled once again. "I'm muggleborn, actually. I did a lot of reading this summer, but I still have to catch up a lot."

"Oh, don't worry about catching up. Most of us barely know any magic at all, even the purebloods." said Dorian. "So I suppose you don't know anyone at Hogwarts?"

Her smiled widened. "Actually, I do. I have a friend, pureblood, if you can believe it. I grew up with her, but she's not in Ravenclaw. She's a fourth year."

* * *

 (Sacrifice)

Nehemia Ytger sat calmly, hands folded in her lap, as the first years were sorted. Sorscha had smiled at her on her way up, and though Nehemia had hoped her old friend would be in her house, she knew Ravenclaw would really help her. Goodness, that girl was too pretty for words. 

"Hey," said a voice by her ear. Nehemia gave a half-turn, barely moving. Her mouth tightened at the sight of Archer Finn, fellow fourth year, sitting next to her. 

"You shouldn't be here." 

"Is that any way to greet an old friend?" asked Archer, his classically handsome face curling with a smile. Nehemia sniffed. She wasn't particularly fond of him.

"That's not what we are." she said, lips barely moving. 

Archer turned serious. "I have information."

"Pick a better time to tell it to me."

"It's about Adarlan, princess, come on."

"Stop."

"You wanted to know about Terrasen, right?" snapped Archer. "Cause they're multiplying." 

She glanced at the Gryffindor table, where Aedion Ashryver was quietly staring at the Sorting Hat. At the girl currently walking to the hat. "Who is that?" she breathed. She had always thought Aedion was a decent sort of person.

"Aelin Ashryver Galathynius." He smirked at her gasp. "Yeah, both last names. She's basically Terrasen's frontman right now. And that's not all. Cal Lochan's daughter is here this year too."

"We like Terrasen." said Nehemia. "Terrasen's court's been targeted by Adarlan for years, these are the last purebloods we have to worry about. We like the blood traitors, remember?"

"What if I told you there are about fifteen Ironteeth girls about to be sorted?"

Nehemia knocked over her pumpkin juice.  _Ironteeth_ girls? The Ironteeth witches were famous, they were one of the oldest matriarchal witch clans still alive, and they were famous for being very, very dangerous. 

"In fact, " continued Archer nonchalantly, handing her a napkin. "A couple have joined my house. A couple are in Ravenclaw too. Your girl's in there, isn't she?"

"Stay away from her." said Nehemia immediately, accented voice rising. 

"Drop the foreigner talk." said Archer. "I thought you stopped pretending in first year. Her name's  _Sorscha_ , right? And she's one of you Ellywes? She sure looks it." He gestured to Nehemia's ebony skin. 

She wasn't. She was from Fenharrow, and her skin wasn't nearly Ellywe. _Her_ family had survived the years of persecution, the centuries of inequality-

For the first time that night, Nehemia turned to face him completely. "Listen to me, Archer Finn." she said. "I don't care where your daddy works, where you get information, but you signed on to this cause. That means you answer to me and my parents. And if I tell you to stay away from her, you're going to. Because I can make your life a living hell."

She saw the derision on his face plain as day. She was a Hufflepuff, a girl, a pureblood, what on earth could she do to him? And then, as Nehemia held his gaze, she watched him slowly become afraid.

Archer Finn was a coward. And she knew how to exploit that.

"GRYFFINDOR!" called the Sorting Hat. The girl with the pale gold hair-Aelin Ashryver Galathynius-stalked past, grinning. Nehemia didn't spare her a glance.

"Adarlan's on the move." said Finn quietly. "We think he's gonna make a move soon. And worst of all, there's a Havilliard among the first years. And he's the one talking to your girl."

Nehemia's jaw tightened, and she glared at him. "And you think that right now, in the middle of the feat, is the right time to tell me? Go _back_ , Archer."

He sneered at her, but complied, stealthily picking his way back to the Slytherin table. Nehemia zeroed in on the sight of a laughing Sorscha exchanging words with a slight boy with dark hair and bright blue eyes. A  _Havilliard_? The family responsible for Adarlan and the relentless torment her parents went through? 

Her eyes narrowed. No, she decided, not this year.

 


	2. Pale Gold Glory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I don't want it to be like that." said Dorian quietly, and only to her. "He's my father. He's not me."  
> Aelin looked at him, long and hard. "Prove it."

**Chapter 2- Pale Gold Glory**

or

"Little By Little"

Aelin watched the sun come up on her first morning at Hogwarts from the windowsill of the first year girl's dormitory, tall glass of water in hand. It was early, so early that none of her other roommates were awake yet. She could see a groundskeeper slowly make the rounds way down by the Forbidden Forest.

Solitude was what she knew. Aelin relished in every moment of it that she got. Back home, it wasn't exactly  _lonely_ , but Aelin had never seen so many people as she had last night, in the Great Hall. And Aedion was the only person her age that she had seen in the last five years, so the number of Gryffindor first years were still astronomical to her. So she had decided to wake up early and try to gather her thoughts. After all, solitude would be hard to come by in the coming hours.  _  
_

It was so strange, that the light hit every part of the grounds except the castle until the very last moment. The sunlight finally struck Aelin's face, and she shifted. The stone she sat on felt strange under her skin and her bare feet, and she wondered about the cold during the winter months. Her hair glittered in the sun, and Aelin put down her water to systematically comb through her hair and plait it.

Behind her, the bed closest to hers stirred, and the girl who had introduced herself as Faliq threw her covers off her and stood, stretching. But Aelin knew her name was Nesryn now. The small girl seized a few bathroom amenities from her already unpacked trunk and walked into the adjoining bathroom. Aelin shrugged her dressing gown closer to her chest, content with the fact that Nesryn Faliq didn't seem to care that one of her roommates was perched like a bird on their windowsill. 

She stared at the sunlight hitting the big, moving, tree in the grounds. It seemed to glint off the leaves, and Aelin sighed, hugging her legs to her chest. Everyone had been so loud last night, and it was all so overwhelming. She was a hundred percent sure she could survive here, but the adjustments she'd have to make were going to put a strain on her. When the sounds from the bathroom began to disturd whatever kind of reverie thing Aelin had going on, she pushed her self off the sill and hunted for her robes. She really should get down to breakfast.

And after all, Aedion had promised to show her the library today.

* * *

 

(Power, Wisdom, Courage)

Her first class was Transfiguration, with an old matronly sort of lady who lectured well but twittered off topic whenever asked a question. Aelin quickly became bored.

She dropped her quill on her notes and surveyed the room. Transfiguration, it seemed, was held with the Ravenclaws. Already gaining the most attention from Gryffindor and Ravenclaw alike was a gangly boy with dark hair and blue eyes. Chaol, whom Aelin had met the day previous, was sitting next to him, obviously disgruntled at the fact that so many people wanted to speak to his friend.

They _did_ seem friends, those too. The Ravenclaw and Chaol seemed to orbit each other. Chaol caught Aelin staring, and she quickly looked away, blushing slightly. She didn't like being caught spying. 

Then again, what cause did she have to feel embarrassed? The professor declared that they all take out their wands. The students complied. She bewitched some matchboxes from her desk to fly out and slid into place in front of each student, who clapped at the display of magic. They were then given an incantation and told to attempt to turn a match into a needle. Aelin frowned-Aedion had made Transfiguration seem so much more interesting.  

Still, she tried, waving her wand and attempting the incantation in a bored voice. The match remained a match. Aelin's frown deepened, and she tried again. Still nothing. Aelin glanced around the room, where the rest of the first years weren't having much luck. Chaol had simply abandoned his matches and was staring over the Ravenclaw boy's shoulder. His match, unlike hers and the rest, had seemed to go a little silver. 

Well, thought Aelin. She stood up abruptly, and stalked over to their table, wand and match in hand. "Show me how you did that."

The Ravenclaw boy looked up in surprise, a smile already forming on his lips. "Hello?"

"Hi." said Aelin impatiently. She gestured at the match. "Show me how you did that." Chaol was glaring at her again. 

The Ravenclaw's even-toothed smile only grew. "I'm happy to help. Sit down, please."

Aelin sat in a huff, squinting at the smile. Good natured people kinda threw her off.

"I'm Dorian Havilliard. You?"

And everything went cold. Aelin blinked, twice, trying to understand. Havilliard? Like...Havilliard. The same surname her parents cursed, that caused her father to massage his temples in despair, that made her mother so angry cold. "I'm Aelin." she said, hostility clear. "Aelin Galathynius." Because there was no doubt he knew her name as well as she did his.

There was a flash of shock in Dorian's eyes, and then, to her surprise, incomparable sadness. Chaol, however, had immediately stood.

"Do you have a problem?" asked the Gryffindor boy.

Aelin glared up at him, adamantly furious at his cheek. But Dorian grabbed his friend's arm. "No, Chaol, it's alright." he looked at Aelin. "I'm not...I'm sorry."

:"Right." said Aelin flatly. 

"I don't want it to be like that." said Dorian quietly, and only to her. "He's my father. He's not me."

Aelin looked at him, long and hard. "Prove it." she said. She pushed her matchbox at him. "You can start with this." 

 And the way Dorian looked at her after that-like she was  _right_ , like he was so thankful, and if his sadness and sincerity didn't convince her before, this would have. Aelin's heart melted, a little. Just little. Just enough to smile at him as she finally managed to get the match a little pointy. Even Chaol seemed to warm to her a little, and by the end of the lesson, they packed up and walked together out of the classroom. 

"What do we have next?" Chaol asked her, even though he was already frowning at his schedule. 

"Potions." said Aelin. She had memorized it at breakfast. 

Dorian made a face. "Good luck. I've got Charms."

Aelin hummed. "We don't have Charms until Thursday."

"How do you-you _memorized_ it? Already?"

She smirked at Chaol and shrugged. "I have many talents. Come on." She pointed towards the stairs. "The dungeons are down there, right?"

"Hell if I know."

They said goodbye to Dorian, who promptly forgot them as he ran into a short Ravenclaw brunette and began to walk with her. 

"Friend of his?" asked Aelin, leading the way down the stairs. 

"Probably. He makes friends like no one I've ever seen."

"Well, he's got you."

Chaol shrugged and made a face. "I'm different. We've known each other  _forever._ "

He sounded so proud, Aelin almost laughed. "Really?" she asked, figuring that Dorian was probably a topic that Chaol couldn't exhaust in conversation. It turned out she wasn't wrong, as Chaol spewed out a very short version of both their childhoods, focusing on the Ravenclaw of course. 

About Chaol himself, however, Aelin learned a little. He was a halfblood, from Anielle, and he had a younger brother whom he doted on. Dorian was introduced to him so long ago neither of them could remember it, and his father was one of the most conservative purebloods there was.

Chaol hadn't actually told her that part, but Aelin's family was born into politics. She reckoned she could give a semi-accurate biography on the Westfall patriarch, just based on swear words her father used in relation to the man. It made sense, she thought, that Dorian and Chaol were friends. If both of their fathers were so right-wing; if they both believed that anyone who's blood wasn't completely and a hundred percent British wizard was invalid, then Aelin could see why they wanted their sons to be close. Share opinions.

Aelin took some private joy in that in Dorian and Chaol's case, neither man had won. 

* * *

 

(Makes The Heart Grow Fonder)

"Library." demanded Aelin, upon seeing her cousin for the first time that day. "Now."

Aedion laughed, loudly and boisterously. All his laughs were like that, Aelin had learned. She hadn't seen Aedion in about two and a half years, some of which he spent in the Ashryver country home, some of which he spent at Hogwarts. Either way, she found herself slowly relearning their relationship.

"Hello to you too, cousin fairest."

"Don't tease." said Aelin, color rising in her cheeks. "I didn't come here to be teased."

Aedion leaned over the Gryffindor table, where Aelin had just sat in front of him. "It's the middle of lunch, A, don't you want to do this after classes?" He was still smiling.

Aelin swiftly checked her watch. "We've got an hour." she said promptly. "That's  _more_ than enough time to show me the library."

"You need to eat."

"I had a big breakfast."

" _I_ need to eat."

"I was watching you, pig, you had a big breakfast too. And come on, we'll be back before lunch is over." Aelin stuck out her hand. "Library. Now."

And surprisingly enough, albeit with a huge dramatic sigh, Aedion listened. He did take an awful long time packing up his thing, but eventually he laid a hand on her shoulder and steered her through the Great Hall. 

"So the library is on the next floor up." said Aedion, pointing Aelin to the marble staircase that had taken her to Gryffindor Tower and Transfiguration. They ascended the staircase. 

"It closes at eight, too, so don't get any ideas about sneaking in later." he added. Aelin threw him a look.

"And what part of that sounds like me?"

This time, Aedion laughed so hard he didn't stop until they reached the library. Aelin was bright red and fuming. 

"So rude," she hissed. "And to think I skipped out on Slytherin for you."

"Come on, A, I'd hate to have to play you in Quidditch."

"Please, you're just a  _reserve_."

"Oi, second years hardly  _ever_ make the team, even as a reserve-"

"Whatever." said Aelin, amused and pacified. "I bet I could do it." 

Aedion didn't say anything, but the look on his face suggested that he wouldn't exactly bet against her either. "Anyway, this is it. The library."

He turned slightly, to catch Aelin's expression, and grinned. Her eyes were wide and glassy as she took a step through the dark paneled doors. The flush in her cheeks was made even more obvious by the way her hair was falling out of it's loose plait. Aedion was hit with a wave of fondness as he followed her through the stacks. 

It was nearly a full minute until she spoke again. "Thank you."

"Anytime, Aelin."

* * *

(Love, From)

She liked Charms, and Care of Magical Creatures. Aelin shifted her book bag off one shoulder and onto the next, wearily massaging her aching muscles. Classes were fine, yeah, but her textbooks were _so_ heavy. 

When Aelin got back to her room to drop her things off before dinner, there was a tawny owl waiting for her perched on the windowsill. Aelin smiled lightly, as it was in the same place she had been that morning, and neatly cut the letter from it's leg. Quite predictably, it was from her parents. Aelin sat and tore the envelope open, as the owl helped itself to some of the Owl Treats in Nesryn's (the only girl in the dorm with an owl) bag.

Two sheets of paper fell out, and Aelin read the one in her mother's elegant script first.

_Aelin,_

_I know I promised not to write the first week, but dear, it's been so quiet without you. I simply don't know what to do with myself. Your father's been going mad as well, no matter what he says in his letter. Anyway, how are you? How are your classes? What House are you in? Your father says he's disowning you if you're not in Ravenclaw, but I'm sure he's at least half joking._

_No, honey, don't worry about things like House allegiances, they were rubbish when I was a girl and I'm sure they're still rubbish now. All the Slytherins sneer at the Gryffindors, all the Gryffindors hex the Hufflepuffs, the Hufflepuffs are annoyingly devoted to their Quidditch teams, and all the Ravenclaws make faces at the rabble. See, when you hit third year, everyone realizes they've been foolish and they all start to act like human beings again._

_Ah, clarity. You know something? I don't even feel bad about writing you this early anymore. See, I just received a letter from your cousin, a very respectable one. It was strange reading it without you, love, you used to crow over his every word. I think you saved all his letters, right? In your room?_

_I'm getting off topic. Aedion wrote me immediately, can you believe? Five minutes and thirty-eight seconds, though, I'm very impressed. That's the longest hatstall I've ever heard of. And Gryffindor! I'm so proud, dear, when you get back home for Christmas your whole room is going to be red and gold. I'm excited._

_Speaking of your cousin though, how is he? Do check up on him once and a while, will you? I know you've got twice the amount of maturity, even if Aedion is unbelievably polite to us old people. Losing his mother was so hard on him, on us all, even if it was last year. I hope you make sure he's eating. My dear brother's been concerned as well, though Galan is unbelievably terse on the matter of our sister._

_Slightly more light-hearted of a topic: Have you made many friends? Your uncle Cal (I know he's not your real uncle, but you're still to call him that. No arguments) wrote as well, and I hope that you can speak to Elide if you get a chance. I know it's been a while since you've seen her, but hopefully you get along better if you aren't competing for a baby toy. Or maybe not. Either way._

_Write soon, Aelin. I don't care what anyone says, writing to your parents first week isn't wimpy at all. I anxiously wait the arrival of your letter, but I feel a little better knowing that Aedion's going to write at least twice by the time I receive it._

_All my love-_

_Mum_

_P.S. Your father scored tickets to a Harpies game this Christmas and I so hope you read my letter first because he's going to be so annoyed that you heard it from me first. Love you!_

Aelin grinned, deciding that she'd make fun of Aedion for writing her parents the second he got to his dorm last night soon. She lay the letter carefully on the bed, and picked up the second sheet of paper, predictably in her father's hand.

 

_My dear Aelin,_

_I hope you've been eating well._

_Your mother tells me that the previous sentence wasn't a good way to open a letter to my lovely and absent daughter, but lets be real, kid. You've been gone a day. Any pangs there are to be felt will be felt in the next week, or if I've got a really strong constitution, mid November._

_Tell me about your classes. Aedion's already written (make sure to absolutely poke fun at him for being such a well mannered thirteen-year old, okay Ace?) and while I'm please you're not in Hufflepuff, I can't believe you chose Gryffindor after all that time! What, six minutes? The Sorting Hat's going mad, I tell you. You're far too clever to not have gotten in._

_Whatever, your mother is throwing a fit about 'keeping her options open' and 'not shaming her for who she is', honestly Aelin. You've left me alone with a madwoman._

_But I need a full report on your new life, immediately. Classes, friends, food, a complete play-by-play. Ten pages. Minimum. Have you seen the library yet? If you have, isn't it amazing? Just one of the things I miss about Hogwarts. I can send you some titles to look up next letter._

_(Evalin just called me a nerd, Aelin. I don't think I can live in this house without you.)_

_But anyway, I'm to tell you about what's really happening here in the Galathynius house. In Terrasen, really. You're going to basically lead the court one day and you need to know our politics well, Aelin. So listen up. Anyway, no matter what you say to Evalin, I know this interests you._

_Cal Lochan's daughter is in Hogwarts too, so I suggest looking her up. But that's not all. You remember what I told you about the Ironteeth witches, right? Nearly the entire Blackbean clan's next generation is in your class. I'd watch my back if I were you._

_On a more serious note, even though I've previously said that there's nothing more serious than an Ironteeth witch, we still are dealing with the problem of Adarlan. His following is growing stronger than it should be, and I'm worried about the integrity of the Ministry. On the other end, some purebloods have started backing out now that they've seen his true colors(black and red, have you heard? The bigot's chosen an honest to god coat of arms). I think Georgina Havilliard, the wife, has nearly left the madman. She's sent the children away, at least. The older one should be with you (remember when I said watch your back? Yeah.), and the younger is somewhere up north with an uncle._

_And that was the daily politics report, kid. Keep an ear to the ground, let me know if anything changes dynamic wise at Hogwarts. And here is your mother, giving me a very disapproving look. Make sure to tell her in your next letter that you actually enjoy the daily politics report, okay? _

_Oi, by the way, guess who has a surprise present for you this Christmas! That's right! No longer will you only look forward to your mother's presents, cause I've got something absolutely amazing. Think 'birds of prey'._

_Give my best to Aedion._

_And Aelin, sweetheart, I was only joking. I miss you more and more every second._

_Love you always and forever,_

_Rhoe Galathynius, or 'Dad' if you're so inclined._

* * *

(The Best Things In Life Are Free)

"Aedion?"

"What's up?"

Aelin was staring at her books. The light from the fire in the common room turned her hair bright gold. She looked up at the second year, a little sheepish. "Dorian Havilliard is in my year."

Aedion sat up straight, hate in his eyes clear. "Has he said anything to you? Merlin and Agrippa, if he's even _looked_ at you funny I'm going to-"

"No." said Aelin emphatically. "That's not the problem."

"Then what is?" asked Aedion, eyes narrowing.

"The problem is, he's kind of decent. I like him, Aedion, or at least I want to. I think...I think he could be a really good mate."

Aedion was staring at her like she had just grown two heads. "Aelin, that's crazy."

"He said he was sorry. For Adarlan."

"That doesn't stop anything."

Aelin looked down. She shouldn't have mentioned this, not so soon after her aunt had died. Not so soon after Aedion's mother had perished under Adarlan's hands. "I'm sorry, Aedion."

"Don't apologize." he said, sincere. "You've done nothing wrong."

"Well, yeah, I know that." Aelin said, rolling her eyes. Some of the smile came back to Aedion. "But he's alright, Aedion. I'm not saying I won't be careful, I'm always careful. But I'm gonna _try._ "

He was still staring at her. Aelin went straight back to reading.

"Mum and Dad send their love, by the way. And if we weren't having such a serious conversation I'd have already brought up the fact that you _already_ wrote them, you absolute fake. Acting so tough, when really the second you get to your room you immediately write all your relatives." said Aelin primly, smiling.

Aedion laughed, throwing back his head, and comfortable silence stretched between them. Aelin shuffled a little closer to him and lay her head on his shoulder. He slung an arm around her shoulder as well, leaning back against her. 

"I missed you every day."

"Really, A?"

"Shut up."

"I missed you too, Aelin."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay chapter one! Anyway, just an fyi: First and Second year are gonna go by like really fast, cause all of the important plot starts in third year.  
> Arobynn was supposed to make it into this chapter, but this whole thing was just so Aelin & Aedion my heart burst. Cousin goals, literally.  
> What you have in store for next chapter: Lysandra (a little bit at least), Elide, and lots and lots of Chaol and Dorian.


	3. I Is What I Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Black hair. Green eyes. Cinnamon skin.  
> It was a mantra of sorts, something to calm her down and remember her role. She was Lysandra Lorien now, not Lysandra the street rat, not Clarisse's Lysandra.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I just say that it's so weird having Dorian and Chaol (Dorian especially) say 'Aelin' instead of 'Celaena'? It's so weird.  
> (but trust me, celaena's making an appearance i have plans for that nom de plum)
> 
> Chapter title is reference to the Shilpa Ray song of the same name, cause it's so damn Lysandra.

**Chapter 3-I Is What I Is**

or

"It's That Family Living"

There was a letter waiting on first year Lysandra Lorien's bed, and the mere sight of it sent her spiraling down into darkness. 

Who could be writing her? Who else could it possible be? Lysandra's hands were shaking, and she sank to the ground, putting her head between her knees. She thanked her lucky stars that the Slytherin dormitory was currently empty.

The train into Hogwarts had been the happiest time of her short, short life thus so far. Just the thought of being over five hundred miles away from her and her torture was enough that Lysandra cried happy tears in the bathroom on the third carriage. But she was _back_ , and she had sent a letter, and there was no way Lysandra could possibly get up to read it.

The door opened, and in three seconds flat Lysandra was sitting normally, posed at reading one of her school books.

Manon Blackbeak stared at her from the doorway. "Why are you sitting on the floor, Lorien?"

"The bed's too soft to read in." said Lysandra in a lofty voice. That last name sounded so _wrong_ in relation to her, and yet she had been the one to choose it. "What does it matter to you?"

Here Manon smiled, and quite frankly it was creepy. "It doesn't." The door slammed shut behind her as the alabaster haired witch departed. 

Lysandra made a face at the door, still splayed out on the floor. Bracing a hand on the bed, she forced herself up. The sight of the letter was still sickening, and Lysandra still wanted to lay down, but at least Manon's entrance had halted the self-depreciating panic going through her mind. No, the best thing would be to read the letter, before she worked herself up into another panic attack.

So, in a show of confidence, Lysandra plucked up the letter and held it loosely. But still, she could not make any attempts to open it. She couldn't tell how long she stood there for, just holding the thick parchment envelope in a single hand, her other arm crossed tightly over her abdomen. Somewhere above her, the bell rang for lunch and Lysandra swore loudly. She had forgotten, in the wake of this letter, that she had an actual  _life_ in the castle. And nothing in its contents could tell her otherwise. She hurried to the bathroom mirror and braced herself, looking at her face. Her hair was black. Her eyes were almond, and green. Her skin was cinnamon, dusted with roses, and her nose was long and European. This was her face now. She hadn't panicked and reverted. Lysandra Lorien was who she had to be. 

Lysandra took up her book bag, determined but incredibly, incredibly scared. She shoved the letter inside at the last moment, and then stalked off to go find some lunch.

* * *

(The Very Picture of Stability)

"So," said Aelin, seated comfortably between Dorian and Chaol. "Where exactly are the kitchens?"

The two boys looked at each other and shrugged. "How are we supposed to know?" asked Chaol.

"You technically are the only one with an older sibling here." pointed out Dorian.

"Aedion and I just look a like. We're cousins." said Aelin, rolling her eyes. "But come on, you haven't heard a thing about them?"

" _No_." said Chaol. "Anyway, we're at lunch. Why on earth are you thinking about the Kitchens?"

Aelin looked at him blankly. 'Because we're at lunch."

"You are the strangest girl I've ever met."

"I'm practically the only girl you've ever met."

"That's not true!"

:"Alright." said Dorian, laughing. "Next time, we sit at the Ravenclaw table."

"It won't halt the bickering at all." said another Gryffindor in their year, Vesta. She leaned over the table to talk to them. "They do it all the time. In classes-"

"-in between classes." added Nesryn Faliq, sitting next to Vesta. "When the professors are speaking, when they're not, when-"

"We get it." said Aelin, sour.  

"See, in Ravenclaw you get publicly shamed if you come across as an idiot." said Dorian cheerfully. "So two seconds with these two should do it. You should see the way the seventh years glare at any offending first year that could possibly make noise."

Their section of the table all laughed, and Aelin and Chaol even smiled at their own expense. 

"But we were talking about the kitchens." prompted Aelin. "They have to be near the Great Hall."

" _You_ were talking about the kitchens." said Chaol. 

"Either above or below." said Dorian. "Why don't you ask your cousin, though? He seems like he'd know."

Aelin grinned. "Nah. This I want to find out myself." She spooned some more potatoes onto her plate, still looking incredibly self satisfied. "We'll do it, no problem. By the end of the year I want to have this entire castle memorized."

"Lofty goals." commented Dorian. "Anyway, Aelin and Chaol, tell me how your classes have been?"

The two Gryffindors both made identical shrugging motions. 

"Eh." said Chaol.

"I'd really feel like I would learn more by just reading on my own." said Aelin dismissively.

Dorian looked scandalized. "This is  _Hogwarts_. The best professors and teachers from around the world teach these classes. How could you not want to attend?"

"Chill out, swot." said Aelin. "I got no problem with learning. Just structured classes."

"You don't seem much for structure in general." said Chaol dryly.

"Truer words have never been spoken." said Aelin, pleased. "But Dorian, have you seen the library yet?"

He shook his head. "No, not yet. I can never find time."

"How about tonight? Aelin suggested. "We three can do our homework there anyway, to get it out of the way."

"Good plan," said Chaol. "I'd have pegged you down for a procrastinator as well, though."

"It's a  _really_ great library, Chaol."

* * *

 

(White and Red and Black) 

"Oh,  _Asterin_."

The blonde in question blushed ruby red. "Manon-"

The Slytherin slung an arm around her friend's shoulders, grinning with all her sharp teeth. "Asterin, if I didn't know any better, I'd have thought you were avoiding me."

"Don't be ridiculous." said Asterin, in a show of her usual bravado. 

Manon swung herself around so she stood directly in front of Asterin, blocking her path. "So you  _haven't_ gone soft on me, is that what you're saying?"

Asterin raised an eyebrow, looking positively dangerous. Manon's smile widened. "I'll never be soft."

Manon reached over to tug at Asterin's yellow and black tie. "Really? Cause you look like a bumblebee."

Asterin pulled back slightly, tightening her necktie. "Hey," she drawled. "It's not my fault I look damn good in gold."

That was the Asterin Manon had grown up with. The angry, reckless and brash girl who positively inspired. Her smile grew genuine. "That you do." said Manon, in as warm of a voice she could manage. She slunk back to Asterin's side, and they began walking together. "I like your hair."

The Hufflepuff reached up to touch her intricately braided golden hair. "Thanks, Manon."

"Sit with me at dinner tonight? Falline and Fallon are miserable without you."

"And I'm sure they're the only one's." said Astern, smirking. 

"You're right, I know Kaya and Lin miss you too." said Manon bluntly. 

"Of course." said Asterin, smile melting. In ways, she was Manon's opposite. She burned hot, while Manon went cold. Manon prided herself on as little facial movement as possible, but Asterin wore her heart on her sleeve. "Edda and Briar?"

"They can come along. I'll tell Ghislaine and the others."

"Good." said Asterin.

Just then, a small, dark figure bumped into both witches quite roughly. Asterin and Manon were off balance, but their assailant was thrown to the ground. It took Manon a second, but she finally recognized her House-mate, the quiet girl. 

"Oh." said Elide Lochan, still on the ground. Manon looked down at her, eyes narrowing. Asterin, however, was furious.

"Apologize." she hissed. 

Elide's eyebrows furrowed slightly, as if she was insulted. Briefly, a flash of disquiet flitted through her eyes, but then it was gone. The girl was subservient again. She look down, and opened her mouth.

"No." interrupted Manon. "It's fine." She leaned down and offered a hand to Elide, who stared at it as though it was a rattlesnake. 

Asterin looked at her in disbelief. "Manon, she nearly knocked you over."

"I know her." said Manon simply. "This is Elide, we live in the same dormitory. Girl, are you going to take my hand or what?"

Still suspicious, Elide let herself be pulled up by Manon. 

"Right." said Manon. "Don't do that again."

"I'll do my best." said Elide, meeting her eyes. 

Manon's lips curled upward, but only slightly. "Good. How would you like to eat with us, Elide?"

This time, Asterin audibly gasped. Elide took a step back.

"It's just an invitation." said Manon. She brushed by the smaller girl, letting her hand lightly touch upon Elide's shoulder. "Think about it."

* * *

 

(Correspondence) 

_Mum and Dad,_

_How are you? I hope both of you are well. Everything is fine here. It's Halloween tonight, and Dad, I think you were right. The decorations are spectacular. But honestly, I do miss decorating Orynth._

_Aedion sends his love, or at least he means to. I'm sure you already know that considering that he does write twice as often as I do. He's fine. I don't see him as much as I thought I would, but a little is better than nothing, right?_

_I've made friends, and it's honestly little ironic cause you two would hate them. I didn't tell you guys this before, but Dorian Havilliard isn't that bad of a guy. And I'm friends with a Westfall, because those two are joined at the hip._

_Yes, I'm being careful, yes, you don't want me trusting them. I know. But they are really okay, and I was wondering if they could come over during the Christmas hols. After all, they'd never ask me over to their parent's houses._

_No, I haven't had a chance to speak to Elide yet. I don't have that many classes with the Slytherins, just DADA and Potions. Speaking of DADA, apparently our professor isn't staying the whole year. He's just filling in for our actual professor, who will arrive in the next few weeks. It's a fun course, though, and I like practical magic more than like. History of Magic. Obviously. _

_Aedion made the Quidditch team!! He literally just ran in and told me, I think he's second string, but apparently the captain likes him so he'll probably get a chance to play in a few real games this year. He's a Beater, by the way. It surprised me too, I remember when you used to play with him, Mum, and he's always want to be a Keeper._

_(Dad, have you forgiven Mum for telling me about the Harpies yet? Just asking. Kisses.)_

_Speaking of Quidditch, I heard that a first year made the Slytherin team, first string! Aedion's really been working himself up about it, he keeps calling her 'the enemy'. Her name is Manon, I think, and I'm really looking forward to playing her next year. She's one of your Ironteeth witches. Maybe I should have tried out this year. If she could make it, I definitely could._

_My friend Chaol (Westfall) tried out for the team and was shot down at once though, so maybe its true what they say about first years._

_I really enjoyed that last book, Dad. Mum, please send fudge. Post haste._

_Take care,_

_Aelin_

* * *

 

(Shop Talk)

"So, favorite class?" asked Aedion. They were in the common room one night, and Aelin was getting a little surprised about how much homework she had to complete. Aedion had a book open too, but he looked as carefree as a bird.

"At this exact moment, none of them." said Aelin, looking at her day planner for homework due tomorrow. Aedion laughed. 

"Well, maybe not at this exact moment. Come on, I want to know about your Hogwarts experience." He yanked her planner out of her hands, letting it dangle out of her reach.

"Pig." hissed Aelin, grabbing it back from him. He was still laughing. "Well, if you  _really_ want to know, Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"DADA? Really?"

"Yeah."

"A, the professor is a joke."

"Well, he's not our real professor, is he? And he material is interesting, and I'm good at it."

"I'll bet." said Aedion. "I used to like it too, but then the Prof left, and it got awful again. What about Charms? I could've sworn your favorite class was going to be Charms."

"Charms is nice." admitted Aelin. "And Herbology isn't bad. It's honestly Transfiguration I've got a problem with."

"Oh come on, no." said Aedion. "You're doing() this on purpose now, Transfiguration's my best subject!"

"It's so difficult! The theory is just fine, but it's just unfair how hard the practical magic is!" said Aelin, glaring at her offending textbook. 

Aedion hummed and sat back. "No, I understand that."

"What a wonder." Aelin exclaimed dryly.

"Hush, you. Hey, I might have a solution."

"A solution?"

"Yeah, I know this girl, best in her year at Transfig. Best in her year at everything, actually. She normally tutors first and second years. I could introduce you two, if you like."

"A tutor?" asked Aelin, wrinkling her nose. "I don't know..."

"No, she's really nice, everyone loves her." pressed Aedion. "And she's not condescending at all. She helped me in Potions last year."

To be honest, Aelin could use some help in Potions too. "Okay." she decided. "What's her name?"

* * *

 

(Eventualities)

Potions with the Slytherins was honestly one of her hardest classes. It was challenging, and fresh, but Aelin never knew if what she was doing was wrong until something exploded. The lesson, however, the professor decided to try their hands at a particularly difficult potion-the Pepperup. Normally, he explained, the Pepperup Potion was only brewed by fourth and above years, but he was convinced that together, they could do it. He also mentioned that he would be assigning partners, prompting a huge groan to go up in the classroom.

Aelin had hopeful eyes on Chaol, even if he was awful at potions, but he was paired with the intimidating Asian girl-the one who had made it on the Slytherin Quidditch team. He looked positively terrified, and that made her laugh. 

But still, hearing "Galathynius, Lochan" threw her for a loop.

Aelin sat up straight, blinking. Elide? She searched the room, looking for the short girl. Unfortunately, she barely remembered what Elide looked like, and she hadn't been watching the Slytherins too carefully. 

"Excuse me." said a quiet voice behind her. Aelin spun-and there she was.

Elide Lochan took after her mother, a lovely woman who used to babysit the both of them. Her long black hair was healthy and shining, though it was cut unfortunately so it hung about her face, sticking to her cheeks. Her eyes, however, were her father's. Engaging, but only if you look at them long enough.

"Hey." said Aelin, relaxing her face into a smile. "It's been a while, Elide."

"That it has." said the Slytherin, taking a seat. "Should we get started?"

"Um, yeah." 

They worked in practical silence for a while, grinding and cutting up ingredients, only speaking when they had to confer the textbook or add things in a certain order. Half the period went by like that, quiet but surprisingly companionable. Finally, when the potion was stewing on the fire, Aelin turned back to Elide.

"So how have you been?"

"Okay." said the other girl. "Hogwarts is nice. You?"

"Hogwarts is most certainly nice." agreed Aelin. She didn't really know what else to say. "And Uncle Cal? Aunt Marion?"

"They're fine. Your parents? Your father hasn't visted Perranth in a while..."

"Mum and Dad are good, and trust me, I know. Dad's been pining for Uncle Cal for quite some time."

That got Elide to smile. "They  _are_ best friends."

Awkwardness dawned again, and both Aelin and Elide realized that despite the lineage, they would probably never be best friends. 

"And do you miss Orynth?" asked Elide quickly.

"Not as much as I thought I would." said Aelin. "And Aedion and...you are here, so it's just like home."

"That's sweet, Aelin." said Elide quietly. "But we haven't spoken in years."

The Gryffindor shook her head. Her braid glinted in the firelight. "Nah, don't be silly. We may not have seen much of each other, but you're still Terrasen."

She represented home, no matter if their personalities clashed. 

"That's sweet." said Elide again, but genuinely this time. She looked at her folded hands. "We should, um, talk more?"

"Of course." said Aelin warmly. She got up to stir the potion. "How many?"

"Oh! Uh, two counterclockwise, ten clockwise."

Aelin counted them aloud, just in case. When she finished, she sat back down, this time fully facing Elide. "Listen, how House loyal are you?"

Elide flinched back. "Excuse me?"

"Cause I heard I first year got on the Quidditch team in your house and I'm wondering if it would be a breach of House trust for you to give me the scoop on her."

Elide relaxed, and then laughed. It was a strange sound, not one she was accustomed to hearing.

Halfway across the room, Manon looked up from her potion at the sound.

"Okay." Elide said, smiling. "That I think I can do."

Aelin grinned back. "Excellent."

* * *

 

(Elentiya)

"Hey, Ytger!"

Nehemia turned around at the sound of her name, her long braids swishing around her waist. Aedion Ashryver was struggling through the crowd towards her. She smiled. He was a good kid, even though it was weird that he was taller than her. 

"Hi, Aedion." she said, shifting her books from one arm to the other. 

Aedion beamed at her. "So can I ask a favor?"

Nehemia raised an eyebrow. "Depends on what it is."

"My cousin just started Hogwarts, she's in Gryffindor with me, and she's having some trouble with Transfiguration..."

The fourth year relaxed. "Oh, of course. When is she free, where should I meet her?"

Aedion shifted his weight. 'Well, are you free now?"

"Right now?"

"Yeah!"

"I, um, well classes are over. Sure." Nehemia plastered on a reassuring smile. She really should get to know the Galathynius heir anyway. 

"Great. She'll be in the library. Let me carry your books." Aedion grabbed her textbooks out of her hands and started a brisk pace towards the library.

"Aedion, that's really not necessary."

"Don't be ridiculous."

Nehemia sighed. She normally was very stubborn, and got her way at least ninety percent of the time, but against the goddamn ball of sunshine that was Aedion Ashryver, she was helpless. She hastened after him. 

"So she's in the library? Very studious, this cousin of yours."

"Nah." said Aedion. "Aelin just likes to read.  _Fiction_."

Nehemia held back a giggle. "Sounds like my kind of girl."

"She  _is_ , Ytger."

They reached the library, and Aedion tossed a smile at the aging librarian. He steered her over to a table by the Charms section, where true to his word, a small girl was reading a fiction novel bigger than her head. Her hair was gold, and her expression focused. She was so involved in her book, Nehemia didn't want to disturb her.

Aedion had no such qualms. "Hey, A!" 

The girl startled, dropping her book on the table. Upon seeing Aedion, she pursed her lips. " _What?_ " 

He grinned. "I gotta introduce you to someone. This is Nehemia Ytger."

Their eyes met, and Nehemia swore she felt something go through her. Looking at the solemn turquoise eyes of this small girl seemed to be...doing something. There was something special about this girl.

The first year smiled, and it lit up her face. She reached out a hand. "Hi. My name is Aelin."

* * *

 

(Feel Real) 

It was midnight, and Lysandra was sitting alone at the mock Ravenclaw table in the kitchens. House elves bustled around her, asking her if she needed anything, rushing to refill her hot chocolate. She smiled at them, and allowed them to make her chocolate pancakes, but otherwise kept to herself.

Black hair. Green eyes. Cinnamon skin. 

It was a mantra of sorts, something to calm her down and remember her role. She was Lysandra Lorien now, not Lysandra the street rat, not Clarisse's Lysandra.

But she was still Clarisse's Lysandra. At least, that's what the crumpled up parchment at the bottom of her bag said. Lysandra sipped at her drink slowly, admiring her tapering fingers. And the worst part was how _nice_ Madame was. She had asked how Lysandra was doing, had said how proud she was that Lysandra was in Slytherin,  _just like her_. 

It made Lysandra retch, over and over, in the toilet of the Slytherin girl's bathroom.

Black hair. Green eyes. Cinnamon skin.

Yes, Madame Clarisse had proven time and time again that she had her claws dug deep in Lysandra's flesh. There was no hope for escape at all, ever. She was completely hopeless. Completely alone. Lysandra had kept from opening that letter for two weeks, and honestly it hurt worse the longer she had waited. Worst of all, Madame would expect a reply.

(She saw Archer Finn in the common room last week. He had turned alabaster white and turned away as soon as he could, away from any reminder that he too belonged to someone. He used to be so kind to her.)

A house elf placed her pancakes down in front of her, and she thanked it kindly. The elf squeaked happily and hurried away. 

But as soon as Lysandra had picked up her fork, the door to the kitchens flew open with a bang. She dropped her cutlery with a clatter. Another first year, with gold hair, a disheveled appearance, and a look of intense determination stalked in. Lysandra's hands flew up to her head, her shock so great it turned her hair bright red and short. 

"Ha!" crowed the other girl, looking around. "I knew it! I knew the kitchens were down here somewhere-" she cut herself off at the sight of Lysandra's hair changing color.

The Slytherin's eyes widened, and she began to panic. She had worked so hard, worked so-not even  _two months_  before she messed up in front of some one.

"Merlin." she whispered, quietly terrified. Red hair. Red hair? No!

Black hair, Lysandra chanted to herself. Black hair, green eyes, cinnamon skin. Slowly as she calmed down, from the roots, her hair began to lengthen and darken. The first year was still staring at her, eyes equally wide. If not for the audience, Lysandra would've broken down into tears right then and there.

"Uh." said the first year. "Well I'm honestly kind of upset I wasn't the first person here. How did you find this place?"

Lysandra's hands were still in her hair, and they began to shake. "One-one of the seniors told me."

" _Told_ you? Told you-that's so unfair! I spent the last  _half hour_ in front of that painting practically acting like an idiot to try and get it open!"

"You just tickle the pear." said Lysandra weakly. Her hair reached it's proper length and stopped growing. 

The other girl rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well, I know that  _now_." She plopped down in front of Lysandra, unbothered, and nodded at the pancakes. "That looks good."

"Want one?"

The girl shook her head. "Nah, I'll get my own. It's a nice offer but I'd seriously make a dent in those."

"Who are you?" she breathed.

"Aelin of the bottomless stomach-my cousin spent a month only calling me that, and I hated it at the time, but whenever I'm around sweets it's kinda true. Excuse me," Aelin added to an elf. "Could I get one of those?"

"Are you going to tell?"

"Excuse me?" asked Aelin, raising an eyebrow. Lysandra gestured hopelessly at her hair. "Oh, that you're a Metamorphagus? Well, I guess not, not if you don't want me too. It's kinda cool."

"It's  _not_ cool! You can't tell anyone! If you do-if you  _do-_ "

Aelin reached for her then and grabbed her hands, holding them together. "Okay, okay, I won't tell anyone. Not a soul, I promise." 

Lysandra, holding back shaky tears, sniffed. "What?"

"I won't tell, I just said. I don't know why it's a secret, but I'll keep it." 

She hiccuped. "Th-thank you."

An elf handed Aelin her own pancakes, and she let go of Lysandra's hands to start in on them. "Chill out, girl. What's your name, anyway?"

Lysandra briefly considered not telling her. But, she realized, they were in the same year, and they would see each other in classes...

"Lysandra."

"Nice to meet you, Lysandra. These pancakes are really good. You should probably eat some of your own."

For the first time in a long, long time, Lysandra smiled, genuine. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some MAY be a little unsatisfied with the whole lys and aelin are immediately friends but JUST YOU WAIT  
> there will be more nehemia and aelin. i promise. 
> 
> Tune in next time, on PLTLWM for Chapter 3: Professor of Choice (working title)


	4. Ravenclaws and Slytherins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ready when you are, the Slytherin seemed to beckon. 
> 
> Aelin felt a smile creep across her face until she was grinning menacingly at Manon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha so first of all finals second of all i accidentally deleted half of this after i edited it so if there are mistakes, sorry!!! just let me know and i'll fix them, okay?  
> (but really. FINALS. ugh.)

**Chapter 3: Ravenclaws and Slytherins**

or

"Let's Fly, Fly, Away"

Blue was definitely one of Sorscha's favorite colors. For that reason, she was glad of being placed in Ravenclaw, even if she wasn't with Nehemia. And blue looked stunning against the gray November sky.

 _Nehemia_ should've been in Ravenclaw. She was the smartest person Sorscha had ever met. Honestly, even after she had read extensively on the Houses and their particular affiliations, Sorscha didn't really understand the whole Hufflepuff thing. Sure, Nehemia loved her people, but...it just didn't make sense to her. 

They had met four years ago in Fenharrow, when Nehemia was on her way to Hogwarts for the first time, and they had been writing each other ever since. In fact, Nehemia was mostly the reason Sorscha decided to go to Hogwarts instead of Beauxbatons like her mother.

Well, that and the other thing. But she wasn't supposed to talk about that. Not yet.

And so, she found herself somehow feeling more distanced from her old friend then she had ever felt, despite them living in the same castle. But in the few moments they had togther, Nehemia had stressed not appearing too close. 

"Make friends, Sorscha." she had said, her accent nonexistent. "Blend in, it'll help you in the future. I promise."

"I don't know anyone, though." said Sorscha. Her mother had been a doctor, rejecting her magic past, and who knows who her father had been. She was very nearly as muggleborn as they came, even if her blood was magic.

"That doesn't mean a thing.' said Nehemia. "Trust me."

To be completely fair, Sorscha did like her house mates. That boy Dorian was really nice, and her roommates were alright too. Sorscha found herself hanging out with fellow first year Ghislaine more often than not, because all the witch did was read. She didn't bother with compromising questions. 

On the other hand, Archer Finn kept winking at her. Sorscha ignored it best she could, but in her next letter she told him to either stop working with her or grow up. She hadn't told Nehemia yet. There was a very high chance the fourth year would actually kill him. 

And speaking of...Sorscha sat at her desk, sliding a thick piece of parchment out of her bag. She prepared her quill and ink, and began to write in smooth strokes, remembering the code Nehemia taught her perfectly. 

* * *

 

(Come On, Come Along)

"You're  _sure_ it's okay for me to be up here?" asked Nehemia, obviously bemused.

Aelin rolled her eyes. "Come on, of course it is." She sat down on her bed, gesturing for the Hufflepuff to sit at her desk. "I mean, there's not  _rules_ against it. You are a girl and these are the girl's dormitories-"

"The  _Gryffindor_ girls dorm." said Nehemia, sitting. "But if you're sure. We can study in here."

"Yeah, about that whole studying thing-" said Aelin, grimacing. 

Nehemia leveled her with a somber look. "Aelin, your cousin called in a very serious favor by asking me to tutor you."

"A very serious-don't be thick, Nehemia, I've heard all about you. You tutor first years for  _fun._ You tutor  _fifth_ years for fun." Aelin leaned back on her cushions. "Anyway, we've had three session so far, and you haven't told me a thing about you."

"I'm pretty boring."

"You tutor fifth years."

"Case and point, then.' said Nehemia. This inspired a laugh from Aelin. "Where are your other roommates, anyway?"

"Dinner, probably." said Aelin. "I doubt their social calendars account for a Thursday afternoon."

"Oh," said Nehemia sagely. "You'd be surprised."

"What?" Aelin laughed. "What does that mean?"

"Oh, nothing..."

"Nehemia!"

"It's really not important."

"You're being so secretive, I've got to know now."

"It's not a secret." said Nehemia, shaking her head. Her braided hair had been smacked into a large topknot that day, and it shifted slightly every time she moved. "It's just not proper for a first year-"

" _Nehemia._ "

"The sixth and seventh years have free periods, right?" said Nehemia finally. Aelin nodded her head. "So most of them try to get out of Friday morning classes, and well, Thursday night becomes really quite social calendar worthy."

"Why wouldn't this be proper for me to know?"

"Well, there's alcohol involved. Or so I'm told." amended the fourth year hastily. 

Aelin rolled her eyes. "Thankfully, I know what alcohol is."

"I'm glad."

"You know," said Aelin. "We've had this whole conversation and I still know absolutely nothing about you. That's interesting, isn't it? And this seems to happen _every time_ I ask you something non-Transfig related."

The fourth year smiled despite herself. This  _girl_. "Let me tell you something, Aelin. I, your tutor, am performing a service. You, my tutoree, are receiving a skill. You don't need to know what I'm like, that's not how you treat those you employ to help you."

Aelin's face sobered, and she frowned. "Nehemia, that's ridiculous."

"That's the way it is." said the other delicately, taking up a textbook. "Shall we start with basic wand movements or theory?" 

"Neither." said Aelin, leaning forward. "I want to talk about this for a bit. What kind of mentality is that? I mean, you said it yourself. You're _helping_ me."

 _Adarlan's_ _mentality_ , Nehemia thought to herself. She pursed her lips. Preaching the opposite of what she believed had been lesson one of...whatever it was she was doing. "I didn't mean it like that."

"You shouldn't be thinking like this! Class differences and...and the like." said Aelin, trying to put rather complex thoughts into an eleven year old's vocabulary. "It's not right, it's not moral, and it's-"

"Aelin." said Nehemia firmly. How was she supposed to tell? How could Aelin know that she was Eyllwe's champion, that she knew persecution more than anyone else? Every word was a struggle. "I know what you mean. Now please, drop it."

She wasn't supposed to trust anyone, and she didn't. Not Archer, who bloody worked with her, not her overseers, Allsbrook and whoever he worked with. She barely trusted Sorscha. Therefore, letting a tiny first year know anything about her life, her true ideologies, was a bad idea. But this  _girl._ Even now, her slim face gazing up at Nehemia like she knew, like she understood-

Aelin was of Terrasen. Her breeding shone through. But still, Nehemia thought, she could not trust her.

Not yet.

The Gryffindor girl finally dropped her gaze. "Fine," she said quietly. "Let's start with the wand movements."

* * *

 

(Make Myself a King)

They met in a courtyard. It was cold, fall was clearly ending, but Manon could handle it. She figured anyone she invited should be able to handle it as well.

(Anyway, they weren't going to  _stay_ out in the cold. Manon wasn't  _crazy_ )

Asterin was the first to creep in, as expected. She shot Manon a bright, burning smile and sat next to her on a cold bench. 

"Good afternoon." she said. Manon rolled her eyes. It was nearly midnight now. "Am I the first?"

 _Second_ , thought Manon.  _There's me._ "I told the rest to show up at twelve. They're not late."

"I know." said Asterin. Her face grew troubled. "Manon, I-why have you called us here?"

"Just to touch base." said Manon casually.

"That's not true." said Asterin, bold as usual. "Did...have you received any word from your grandmother?"

How did she know? How could she possibly know that an opened letter was burning a hole in the bottom of Manon's schoolbag? 

"That has nothing to do with this."

"But yes?" Asterin pressed.

Manon was spared from answering by Sorrel and Vesta's approach. She checked her watch. Still five minutes to midnight. 

"What's this about, Manon?" asked Sorrel quietly.

"Do I need an excuse to see my friends now?"

"You do when it's late." said Vesta. She seemed a little irritable. Manon was about to reply bitingly when Falline and Fallon appeared out of nowhere. Lin, Kaya, Ghislaine, Edda and Briar followed suit. 

Manon looked at them, sour. 'I hope you lot didn't come down in a group together."

"We didn't." said Ghislaine. "Don't worry. Imogen and Thea ran into something, but they should be down by midnight."

"They better." said Asterin.

True to the Ravenclaw's word, the two remaining witches filtered in only a minute to midnight. Manon fixed them all with a steely glare as her witches arranged themselves around here.

"I didn't mean to worry any of you." Manon started. "There's no pressing need for calling you all here so late. But still, I did it. And you all came. I'm impressed."

She crossed her legs. There was complete concentration on everyone around her's faces, and it spurred her on. "My grandmother wrote me this week. She asked if I had a strong group of friends, a strong support circle. Or rather, a strong future court. You're all Blackbeak. I'm sure you've thought about the succession. I'm in favor right now, but I want to know  _for sure_ if you will follow me. If you would support me in my endeavors. I want you to be my squadron. My thirteen Blackbeak witches, ready to do whatever it takes-ready to be  _Blackbeak_."

Were those tears, in Asterin's eyes?

"We don't know if I'm going to be Wing Leader." continued Manon. "There are still the Bluebloods and the Yellowlegs to think about. Iskra and her gang aren't at Hogwarts yet, but Petrah's a year up, and we've got to be careful. But my grandmother has named me heir, and she wants a Blackbeak on the seat of power whenever old Baba Yellowlegs croaks. Her money's on me. My money's on you. So? What do you say?

There was a brief pause, when the weight of the offer hung over them all. Then, Asterin stood. "I'm yours, Manon. You know that."

And then, as if it had been planned. the eleven other witches nodded once, deeply, in respect. Asterin grinned at them, and then back at Manon. " _We're_ yours."

* * *

 (Everyone's Favorite Seeker)

Aelin had absolutely no fear when she stared down at her broomstick, lying innocently in the grass. _Please_. She had been flying since she was a child. Nothing could scare her up in the air. 

Flying lessons were with the Slytherins, which suited Aelin just fine. She wanted to get a look at this Manon character, see how well she flied. She had been charged with sending information, every detail, up to Aedion and the Gryffindor Quidditch team as soon as she could. 

The girl didn't  _look_ dangerous. She just stood, unnaturally still, moon bright hair rippling over her shoulders. The Blackbeak hadn't even bothered to tie her hair, that's what a high opinion she had of herself. Her features were bird like and delicate, but impossibly sharp. Her cheekbones could probably cut glass, thought Aelin, almost a little jealous. Manon was also surrounded by four other girls, also incredibly still. Even Vesta and Sorrel, from Aelin's own house, had joined them.

On the contrary, that girl Lysandra-the Metamorphagus, thought Aelin-was twittered to anyone who'd listen. She had somehow cornered Chaol and was batting her eyelashes in a vaguely predatory way. Aelin giggled, and waved hello. The Slytherin caught her eye and grinned back, abandoning poor Chaol to go stand by her.

"Hello, dear."

"Hi, Lysandra." said Aelin. "Are you excited about flying?"

Lysandra raised an eyebrow, as if she wasn't expecting small talk. "Not at all. Physical sports are  _not_ my thing." She emphasized her words by staring derisively at her nails. Aelin somehow found her grin grow wider.

"You know, I don't know you that well, but I have a feeling you're lying." said the Gryffindor. 

"Suit yourself." said Lysandra. "You'll be eating your words when I fall flat on my face today."

"You'll be fine." reassured Aelin. "I've been flying for years though, and I mean...at least you're not part of  _that_."

Lysandra turned to follow Aelin's gaze, where Manon was surveying her old school broom with distaste. Her friends around her wore similar expressions. "Ah, right. You know, I heard the head of our house got the first year broomstick rule waived for Manon."

"I bet they did." said Aelin, folding her arms. "Who's your head of house, anyway?"

"That's the kicker. We don't even know yet!"

"Oh, the DADA professor?"

"Yup.' said Lysandra, sour. "I was supposed to have made a good impression by now."

 "I'm sure you'll get your chance. Brullo's our head of house," said Aelin, referencing the absent Quidditch Master. "And he hardly cares about anything but this sport."

"I could do with a little less of that." said Lysandra dryly.

"Don't be ridiculous, you'll love flying." said Aelin. "Have you flown before?"

The Slytherin's smile faded, slightly, and darkness flickered in her eyes. Just for a moment. Aelin barely caught it. "No, dear, I've never had the nerve."

Another lie, thought Aelin. Lysandra had more nerve than anyone she had met, even if she was in Gryffindor. Except perhaps Aedion, maybe. And that was a close call. But she let it slide, and smiled as Theodus Brullo stormed onto the pitch, face like a storm cloud. 

"You will call me Brullo. Master Brullo if we're in front of any other administrators, but quite frankly I don't give a damn."

Aelin sighed. Everything out of the man's mouth sounded like garbled war jargon. 

"I'm the one who overseers the Quidditch in this school. Well, your team captains are really in charge of that, but nothing gets by me. Inter-house Quidditch is an ugly, ugly world."

There was a moment of silence, in which the first years took in this world weary statement and Aelin questioned her sanity. Finally, Brullo clapped his hands.

"Well, that's nothing for you lot to worry about today. Alright, all of you, stand by a broom and try to summon it."

Gryffindor and Slytherin lined up, and outstretched their arms. Together, they all cried, "UP!"

Aelin's broom made a satisfying smacking noise as it hit her palm. Across the line, Manon Blackbeak's broom came to her at exactly the same time. They were the only two to get it on the first try.

She locked eyes with the Slytherin, who stared back, steely. At the second, "up!", Manon's posse all claimed their broom, as did Nesryn Faliq's. But Aelin didn't break eye contact with Manon. The silver haired witch tilted her head upwards, smiling slightly at Aelin. She flipped her broom up so it stood next to her. Aelin followed suit, but she held the broom slightly across her body in a more natural position. 

 _Ready when you are_ , the Slytherin seemed to beckon. 

Aelin felt a smile creep across her face until she was grinning menacingly at Manon.

"Good." said Brullo when everyone had claimed their brooms. "Now mount up." He showed the class how to straddle the broom properly, and where to grip. Smoothly and simultaneously, Aelin and Manon mounted up. Their positions were perfect, there was no way they weren't.

Brullo instructed them to kick off the ground, hover for a second, and then return to the ground. The class managed this with relative ease, and the Quidditch Master let them all off early, as long as they promised to return the brooms to the Quidditch shed.

Here, Manon and Aelin were forced to break their strange stalemate, and Aelin walked with Chaol and Nesryn to the shed. They were about half way when Aelin felt a hand lightly touch her waist.

"Your name?" said a cool voice. Aelin turned, and yup, there she was, Miss Ice Queen herself.

"You're Manon Blackbeak, aren't you." said Aelin, by way of answer.

Manon studied her, leaning way too far into Aelin's personal space. She cocked her head to the side. "Oh, I see. You're that Terrasen girl." 

"And you're Ironteeth." said Aelin. "What ho."

The Slytherin looked to the broom Aelin clutched loosely. "That's pitiful."

"That's a school broom."

"You didn't disagree."

Aelin smiled a concession, still vaguely dangerous. "Aelin."

Manon raised an eyebrow. "Your name?"

 "'That Terrasen girl' isn't the best identifier." said Aelin. "Considering." She nodded at a group of girls behind them, Elide Lochan in their midst. 

Was it just her, or did Manon tense slightly? Aelin shook it off. "Well." said the Slytherin.

"Well," continued Aelin. "It was lovely meeting you."

Manon sniffed derisively, and stalked off. Aelin watched her go, smile dropping completely.

"What's her problem?" asked Chaol, frowning. Aelin wound her arm in his.

"Probably just thinks she's all that cause she got on a House team." she said.

Nesryn Faliq snorted. "You're kidding, right? I snuck into the Slytherin tryouts. She's good. Like,  _really_ good, but the only reason she got Seeker was cause not many people tried out for that position."

"Yeah?" asked Aelin, grinning. 

"Yeah." said Nesryn. "The main reason most first years don't get onto a House team is cause there are  _so many_  more experienced players also trying out. Not cause they're bad." She threw an apologetic look at Chaol, who's rejection from the Gryffindor team still stung. "I mean, some captains just reject first years on sight."

"But Manon was just that good." said Aelin, frowning. "I  _should_ have tried out."

"I should say not." said Nesryn dryly. " _I'm_ the reserve Seeker."

"Oh, hon." said Aelin, throwing her arm over Nesryn's smaller shoulders and dragging her into them. "Seeker isn't my position."

"Who could tell, with your ego?"

"Hey!"

Chaol grinned wryly. "Truer words."

"Don't you dare gang up on me, Westfall! I _saved_ you from Lorien today!"

* * *

 (Conversations with a Ravenclaw)

"Nehemia!"

The fourth year turned, the sun hitting her dark skin in a way that made many upperclassmen pause in their stride. Nehemia, however, had eyes only for the first year who had called her name.

"Hi, Sorscha." said Nehemia, smiling. She leaned down slightly, to put her on eye level with the girl. "Do you need anything?"

Sorscha faltered. "No, no, I just wanted to say...hi."

"Oh." said Nehemia, straightening up again. "Okay. Hi! I'll just be going, then? I've got class in a little bit."

"No problem." said Sorscha, internally deflating. "Yeah, no problem. I'll see you later."

"Great." said Nehemia graciously. "See you later."

And she left, leaving the first year to wonder what on earth just happened.

* * *

 

(A Little Later)

Nehemia walked into the Ravenclaw common room with purpose. There was no suspicion as to why she may be there-Nehemia tutored many students in other Houses. But when Sorscha pulled her into the first year girl's dormitory, it was obvious that this was not a business call.

The older girl sighed, visibly sagging. "Sorscha..."

"No, I've been thinking about it." said Sorscha in a clipped tone of voice. "I'm quite clever, you know? I've been thinking about it, and I get it. You need to portray yourself as Hogwarts Golden Girl, and while that means being nice to some first years, actually speaking to them is a totally different matter."

"Sorscha, please, you  _know_ how it is." _  
_

"No, I get it." said the Ravenclaw. "I do. Really. It's just so hard...we never talk. I do know how it is. And we're supposed to be friends! We were friends before all of this, before Hogwarts, before everything. But I'm  _here._ I'm here because of you, because I want to see you, talk to you."

Nehemia recoiled sharply. "Please don't say that. Please don't, please don't make it seem like you joined this for me. That you put yourself in such danger for  _me_."

"No." sighed Sorscha. "No, I didn't. Honest. I signed on because I want this cause. For my people's freedom and, and your's too. My mother-I mean. I just want this really badly. But you were a big part of it too. I'm not going to lie."

"This is so," Nehemia was struggling for words, and this was the first time Sorscha had ever seen her anything but loquacious. "Sorscha, this is so dangerous."

"I know." said the first year. She reached up, seizing her friend's hands. "Nehemia, this is my choice. I'm sorry. I won't mess with your image anymore. I know how important this is."

"You could never mess anything up, Sorscha. Not even if you tried. But please, _please_ , think about this. If you want to back out, do it now. Before you get too deep."

"I said I believe in this cause. I believe in you."

"Me?"

" _You_. You're light, Nehemia." Sorscha gazed up at her with honey eyes. "That's what they call you, you know? Back home, in Eyllwe. You're their light. They'd follow the organization, but they belong to  _you_."

Nehemia stepped back at the sudden weight of responsibility that declaration lay on her. "I'm just a tool."

"I'd follow you."

"Don't  _say that_."

"It's true." Sorscha removed her hands, and smiled lightly. "You do what you have to, okay?"

"Okay." said Nehemia quietly. She straightened, and painstakingly schooled her expressions into something appropriate for the Nehemia Ytger she would have to be once outside. "Okay." she said again, sounding more confident. "I guess I should go."

"Sure." said Sorscha, smiling her lovely smile. 

* * *

 (Conversations With Ravenclaw and Friends)

"Hey Ghislaine, do you mind if I sit with you?"

The Ravenclaw didn't even look up. She just removed papers from her bag and slid them across the library table. Aelin picked them up, confused.

"What's this?"

"Charms notes." said Ghislaine, nose buried in a book. "That's what you wanted, right? You were late for class today."

Aelin smiled sheepishly, and plopped down across from her. "Right, yeah...sorry. I'd have asked Dorian, but-"

"You can use them as long as I'm still here, but if you get any stains on them I'm never speaking to you again. And if I need them your rights are immediately waived."

"Um, sure." said Aelin, a little bemused. She opened her book bag and pulled out a notebook, quill, and her assignment planner. "Hey, I don't suppose-"

Ghislaine slid her Charms textbook across the table. Aelin beamed.

"You are a  _star_ , Ghislaine."

"Same terms apply, Galathynius."

"Of course." Aelin settled down to work, slowly becoming absorbed in the slightly complicated Charms work. It was mostly rote memorization at this level, but that wasn't exactly her strong suit. She hadn't been working for twenty minutes, however, when a shawdow crossed hers. Aelin inhaled the antagonistic scent of mint and metal, and sighed inwardly, pasting on a fake smile. 

"Why, hello, Manon."

The silver haired witch took no visible notice of Aelin. "Slumming it, Ghislaine?"

The Ravenclaw looked up, annoyed, and rolled her eyes. " _She_ sat down." Aelin beamed up at Manon.

Manon frowned, slightly. She normally wouldn't allow one of her girls to take that tone of voice with her, but Ghislaine was Ghislaine. Also, the unwritten laws said that if anyone disturbed the girl while reading, they deserved what they got. "What are you doing here, Galathynius?"

"You can say 'Aelin', by the way. Three syllables shorter."

Manon braced a hand on Aelin's chair, her eyes narrowing.

The Gryffindor rolled her eyes, and turned back to her parchment. " _Homework_ , Blackbeak. Feel free to join us anytime."

It was very clearly sarcastic, but Manon's eyes glittered. The witch smiled, a terrifying one, and gracefully sat down next to Aelin.  _Right_ next to her. Practically on top of the girl.

Aelin felt her cheeks start to burn, either with anger or embarrassment. "Um, Blackbeak..."

"Is there a problem,  _Aelin_?"

She grit her teeth.  _Fine_. "Not at all." 

Manon smiled, barely five inches from Aelin's cheek. "Great."

Ghislaine, across the table, took no notice of the proceedings. Manon slid the hand already on Aelin's chair further down, so her whole arm rested behind the Gryffindor's shoulders. "So,  _Aelin_."

"What?"

"Are you thinking of trying out for the House team?"

Aelin grinned in her face. 'Why? Scared?"

"Of you? Not likely."

"Tryouts already happened, Manon. I decided not to. _This_ year." she added to Manon's triumphant look."You sure sound scared."

"Sure I do." drawled Manon. "Anyway, your cousin's on the team."

"Best Beater this side of Britain."

"I find that hard to believe."

"I find _your face_ hard to believe."

Manon blinked, taken aback. "What?"

Aelin smiled, and packed up her things. "Somehow, I don't think I'll get much work done here. Thank you for the notes, Ghislaine." She stood, and turned to leave. "Oh, and Manon? Good luck for the first game of the season."

"How sweet." said Manon, frowning.

" _You'll need it_."

* * *

(Unholy Matrimony)

DADA was, thankfully, _not_ with the Slytherins. Aelin was getting a little sick of Manon Blackbeak. Instead, they had class with the Ravenclaws, meaning that Dorian, Chaol and she all grabbed front row seats that first week of classes.

It was November eighteenth now, though, and their supplementary professor hadn't shown up yet.   

"Maybe he's gone home." said Chaol, hopefully. "Maybe our actual teacher is here."

"I wouldn't bet on it." said Aelin, propping up her chin with her palm. "Also, you've said that every week since school started."

"I can dream." said Chaol darkly. 

"You seem sore about something." said Aelin. "Goodness, Chaol, is it still the Quidditch thing?"

"No."

"It is! Oh, Westfall, I though Nesryn already convinced you it wasn't your fault."

Chaol avoided her gaze. "Whatever. Faliq made it in."

"She made reserve, also Seeker's a hard position. There were five people trying out, tops. Whereas for Chaser...oh, you were there! You remember!"

 "Like half the school tried out for Chaser." admitted Chaol. "I think I saw some Hufflepuffs, actually."

Aelin smiled. "See, then?"

The Ravenclaws all streamed in, and Dorian joined the two in the front, saying his greetings. 

"What's up?'

"Chaol think the boring man's gone home." said Aelin, yawning. 

Dorian's answering grin was huge. "Actually..."

Aelin looked up sharply. Chaol nearly dropped his books. "Really?" he asked.

"It's just a rumor." said Dorian mischievously. "But I heard our professor is finally here."

Almost as if in answer to Dorian's claim, the door to the classroom banged open, and a tall man walked in. His stride was confident, though that may have been an indicator of his youth. He seemed to be in his mid to late twenties, and while he didn't posses a classically handsome face, there was something compelling about it. His red hair was cropped short to his skull, and he wore no beard. 

The man faced the class. "Welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts." he added a smile. "Finally."

Aelin was one of those to chuckle appreciatively at the joke. His eyes snapped to hers. Holding her gaze, he smiled. 

"I'll be your professor this year. My goal is to instruct you on the forces outside this castle, violent or not, and prepare you for your lives in the wide, wide world. My name is Arobynn Hamel, please to meet all of you."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haaaaa, who guessed? I was trying to be enigmatic, but the Arobynn card was PRETTY telegraphed. Let me know what you thought about the reveal?
> 
> Dorian didn't make it into this one, (shocking!!!) but he'll feature pretty heavily next chapter! It's his turn to get a letter from home.  
> I have a serious problem tho. I keep writing the darker scenes in this before I do the actual timeline ones. Like I just wrote like forty pages of a Lysandra chapter that's not going to happen until sixth year. 
> 
> Yeah, it's evident there's gonna be some sort of time skip, but it's going to be harmless. 
> 
> Tune in next time on PLTLWM for chapter four, which includes Christmas and a shocking amount of foreshadowing!


	5. Reigning Queens and Christmas Trees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I'm not too good at this narrative stuff. So, well, I'll suppose I'll start from the beginning. Hang on tight, Dorian. This is one wild ride._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay holy shit probably the longest and hardest chapter I've ever written. You guys are amazing though, thanks for the reviews!

Chapter 5- **Reigning Queens and Christmas Trees**

or

"Medb of Connacht"

On December 26th, Aelin sat down at the desk in her childhood room, and took a sheaf of parchment out. She lay it flat and poised a quill over it, trying to write. 

But how? How was she supposed to sum up what was possibly the most inane Christmas she had ever had. Aelin shook her head. Best just to write it down. He  _had_ asked for an update, after all. So, quill to parchment, Aelin began:

_Dear Dorian,_

_Happy Christmas!_

_Goodness, I think I need to start out like that. 'Happy Christmas'. I can't wait to see how Hogwarts is at Christmas, but I'll have to wait until next year. Is the food just as good? Better, I bet. And I hope you've received my present. I got yours yesterday morning, and thanks so much. The candy was 100% welcome, as was the list of book recommendations. I'd be lying if I said there was any candy left over now, though. I've eaten it all. And I'm not guilty at all._

_Look, I'm stalling. I know you want a proper update on my break, and I'm trying very hard to fit it into words. Retrospectively, it was probably my worst Christmas yet. But don't let that discourage you, Dorian! I'll still tell you about it in full, as long as you read diligently, and I'm sure you will. I had some interesting visitors, and goodness, the tree! You need to know about the tree._

_I'm not too good at this narrative stuff. So, well, I'll suppose I'll start from the beginning. Hang on tight, Dorian. This is one wild ride._

* * *

 

(The Beginning)

December burned sharp and cold, and Aelin found herself on the train back home before she knew it.

Dorian was staying at the castle, but Chaol was riding with her. They spent the train ride with slight conversation and mostly companionable silence. Aelin liked that, that she could be quiet around him. He didn't really want to go home, she could read it in his posture, so she chattered about inane things, just letting him know there was a way out until the train reached King's Cross.

Evalin Ashryver was a tall women, willowy, with a jaw line made of steel. Still, even as such a formidable woman, Evalin found herself running and crouching forward to accept Aelin's dead sprint towards her mother. She laughed, and their blond hair shone together. 

"Oh,  _Aelin_ , how we've missed you!" 

Aelin buried her face in her mother's shoulder, inhaling. She was independent and whatever, sure, but she did have some sort of sentiment towards her parents. She just didn't expect it to manifest so violently. Her mother put her down, beaming.

"Where's dad?"

Evalin rolled her eyes. "He's on his way. He got tied up at the Ministry, but he says he'll be damned if he misses you coming home. You  _may_ have to get back on the train and pretend to just be getting off when he gets here. He's more a child than you, Aelin."

"Oh, that's alright." said Aelin, feeling a sharp fondness for her parents. "Oh, Mum, this is-hold up."

Aelin turned around, seized Chaol's sleeve, and dragged him towards her. His face was red, and he was staring at the ground. "This is Chaol. I've written about him."

Evalin smiled kindly. "How do you do?" 

"Just fine." said Chaol, still uncomfortable. "And you, Mrs. Galathynius?" 

"Ashryver, please." said Evalin. "I was one of those modern women-kept the last name. It's good to meet you, Chaol. Aelin's said so many wonderful things about you."

"That I highly doubt." said Chaol. Aelin smacked him on the shoulder.

"No, really." said Evalin, the picture of sincerity. "Thank you for helping her in Charms that one time."

Chaol blinked. He turned to Aelin. "Your letters really  _are_ detailed, aren't they?"

"Oh, look, there's Rhoe." said Evalin, standing on her toes to see above the crowd. Sure enough, Aelin's father was bounding towards them, a look of intense disappointment on his face. He was also tall, though Evalin was basically his height, and had broad shoulders, dark brown hair, and woody green eyes. 

"Damn it all," he swore. Evalin threw him a sharp look. "I've  _missed_ it! Aelin, get back on the train, I want to see you coming off of it."

" _You_ come off it." said Aelin, shaking her head. Rhoe Galathynius's face broke out into a grin, and he also lifted up his daughter, swinging her in a circle. 

"Good to see you again, Ace." he said. His eyes landed on Chaol, and he lifted an eyebrow.

"Oh!" said Aelin, dragging Chaol forward again. "This is Chaol, my friend. I just introduced him to mum."

"Right." said Rhoe, nodding. "A's said a lot about you. Bad luck about the Quidditch team, ey?"

Chaol glared at Aelin, who turned red. "Dad!"

"Sorry, sorry." said Rhoe mildly. "It's Westfall, isn't it?"

"Yes, Mr. Galathynius."

Aelin was ready to defend her friend, but her father just nodded, his eyes a bit kinder than normal. "How's your mother? I saw her a few months ago at a gala."

"She's...just fine." said Chaol, surprised. "I'll tell her you asked about her."

"Good man." said Rhoe, clapping a hand on Chaol's shoulder. "Well, Ace? Should we be going?"

"Sure." said Aelin warmly. She turned and gave Chaol a quick hug. "I'll see you in January."

"Dorian wants you to write." said Chaol, by way of goodbye. 

"Will do."

And she turned was was led away by her beaming parents, the picture of a happy family.

* * *

 (The True Meaning of Christmas)

"There are five days till Christmas." said Aelin, rolling up her sleeves. "Let's see the damage."

Her father rolled his eyes. "Honestly, Ace."

Aelin raised an eyebrow. Her mother, behind her, giggled. "And the Christmas Healer is in." said Evalin, clapping her hands. "Alright, Aelin, let's take you round."

She drew her wand. "Drawing room first." They rushed to the large room, decorated entirely in holly and greens. Candles were on the mantle place. Red ribbons quite literally decked the halls. "Status report." said Evalin, turning to her daughter. Aelin had tied up her golden hair into a serious bun on top of her head, framing her stern, small face. After a long minute of surveying the room, she turned to her mother.

"Too much holly." declared Aelin. Behind her, Rhoe groaned.

"Too much?  _Too_ much? Last year, you went on a tirade about how little holly we had and how  _important_ it was to bloody Christmas vernacular." said her father. 

"Well, now there's too much. Take me to the ballroom." said Aelin, imperiously sweeping from the room, nose up in the air.

Evalin grinned, laying a hand on her husband's shoulder. 

"We raised a spoiled one." he said, sighing comically. 

Aelin's voice, distorted from the high ceiling in the corridor, came warbling through. "I can  _hear_ you! And I'm a perfectionist!"

The inspection of the ballroom didn't go much better. 

"You said there will be no fairy lights this year?"

"Ace, the  _expense_ -"

"It's Christmas. I don't want to hear it. There will be fairy lights on every bough of pine. Or wood. Or whatever this is."

"Aelin-"

" _Christmas._ "

And after that there was the antechamber, and the dining area, and the entrance hall. But first, some local color. Orynth Manor was a large structure, built several centuries ago by the Galathynius's fae ancestors. It was one of those imposing stone castles that ended up being quite drafty in the winter, no matter what Heating Charms could do. It was Rhoe's boyhood home, but upon Evalin's introduction into the family, she began making drastic changes. Nothing that interfered with the historical aspect of the manor, but rather small, aesthetic changes that annoyed the crap out of Rhoe's mother. Evalin preferred soft, warm lighting to torchlight, and she did up the whole drawing room in 'warm' colors. By warm, of course, she only meant the excuse it took to plaster Gryffindor colors all over. This ended up working in Rhoe's favor, considering his constant need to be a thorn in his very blue blooded mother's side. The result was fairly comfortable-a three story building, small observatories in the two turrets, and very expansive grounds where Evalin hosted a small menagerie of animals, including her prized hippogriffs. A fresh paint job and lots of exposed brick inside the once stone castle made Orynth suddenly inviting and warm. Or at least, that's what it was to Aelin. 

"And the tree?" asked Aelin, finally, after the manor was to her tastes. "You haven't picked it out without me, right?"

"Of course not." said Rhoe. "I've had several delivered to the shed, you can choose which one you like and send the rest back."

"Lovely." said Aelin. "Shall we?"

* * *

 (Solidarity)

Seeing Archer Finn was probably an indicator of danger. Lysandra stopped short at the sight of him, in all his gangly fourteen year old awkwardness. He scoffed at the sight of her.

"Get inside,  _Lorien_." he spit her fake last name like it was a curse. She rolled her eyes. No masks for him. 

"Chill out, Finn." she sat inside the plush sitting room Clarisse had instructed her to attend to. "What's this about?"

"If I knew," he said sweetly. "I wouldn't tell you."

"Oh, lovely."

"Very, yes."

They were both on the very edge of their seats. Tensed, ready for anything. And the worst part, thought Lysandra, was that they wouldn't even stick up for each other during whatever this was.

"Archer," she started, hostility dropped from her voice. He looked over, surprised.

"Yeah?"

She took a deep breath. "Solidarity?"

He blinked, features softening. "Lys..."

"Is that a yes?"

Archer looked truly apologetic. "Lys, I didn't get to where I am today by putting other people first."

Ah. So that was how it was. She nodded, a familiar mask rising. "I understand. Give me a couple more years in Slytherin, I'm sure I'll do the same."

"It's not Slytherin." said Archer, expression dark. "It's  _this_ place. You should've stayed at the castle for the holidays."

"Like I had a choice." said Lysandra. She straightened in her chair and crossed her ankles as she had been taught. "Let's just get through this."

The door opened a second time, and Madame Clarisse strode in. She was a woman in her late thirties, with now dyed red hair arranged in a classy braided bun. She wasn't tall, but seemed to carry an air of importance. Both Lysandra and Archer Finn jumped up the second she entered the room. Finn bowed. Lysandra curtsied. 

"Be seated." said Clarisse, waving a hand. She took a seat at the head chair, an impressive Victorian, very cushioned, with a high back. It looked like a throne. "Lysandra, you need to work on your curtsy. I thought you were going to fall on your face."

"Apologies, Madame." said Lys, very demure. 

"Never mind. Sit down."

They both sat.

"I'm introducing an investor to you both." said Clarisse. "You both are currently my only Hogwarts trainees, and he's expressed...interest in the locale. This is also a good situation to learn to deal with potential investors, understand? Full faces, on."

"Of course, Madame." said Finn and Lysandra at the same time. 

"Good. He'll arrive in a few minutes." Clarisse raised an expectant eyebrow, but no query came. "Well?" she demanded. "Don't you want to know who he is?"

"I don't think it matters as long as he's investing." said Lysandra. "And we charm him."

A hint of a smile touched the madame's painted lips. "Bold, Lysandra. But acceptable."

Archer Finn threw Lys a dirty look. Clarisse didn't pay any attention to it. She encouraged competition.

"But," Clarisse continued. "You already know him. His name is Arobynn Hamel."

* * *

 (A Secondary Meaning of Christmas)

There were several magnificent magical pine trees in the Galathynius's backyard. Rhoe, knowing his daughter's eclectic tastes, had spared no expense.

"Remember," Evalin was saying. "People are going to be taking pictures in front of our tree. They will then use these pictures for any cards or whatnot of their family for the next two years. Cal still has that photo they took of the family enlarged and straight on top of their mantle in Perranth."

"Basically, this is a very serious decision." said Rhoe, with a little more humor.

"I understand that." said Aelin, with gravity. "Okay. I'm ready."

They moved along the line to the first of the firs. It was massive, bows filled with silver pine needles instead of the normal and natural green, and there was a soft sheen of light emanating from it. The light was like very soft silver, or mother of pearl. 

Evalin seemed to take to it instantly. "It'll light up the ballroom." she said softly, clasping her hands together. 

"I don't know." said Aelin doubtfully. 

"A little too ethereal." admitted Rhoe.

"It reminds me of my grandmother." said Evalin.

"Mum, it's a  _tree_."

"She was a very spiritual person."

"We'll come back to it." said Rhoe, ushering them down the line. The next tree was naturally green, but the needles on each tip of every branch were a glimmering gold. Golden songbirds, all with red ribbons tied around their necks, flitted from branch to branch, twittering in generally pleasing tones.

"Pretty." said Aelin.

"The birds might take away from the orchestra." said Evalin. "But it's very striking, yes."

Rhoe frowned. "I think it should all be one color, though."

Aelin rolled her eyes. 'Next!"

They went through an entirely jewel-toned tree, a monstrosity of sapphires and purples and teals that left the entire family cringing. Another tree was made of different shades of red, and Aelin frowned at that one.

"Looks like blood." Rhoe agreed. "Move on."

The next one was made of soft gold, and shone so brightly it hurt to look at it. Next to it, a tree was made entirely of crystal, with small lights on the very tips of the needles. Aelin began warming to this one, but her mother held her back from immediately choosing it. 

"People are going to be taking pictures in front of it." reminded Evalin. "We need a rather neutral background."

Aelin looked scandalized. " _You_ wanted the silver one!"

"It reminded me of my dead grandmother!"

" _Well_ -"

"Okay." said Rhoe loudly. "Time to make a decision. Evalin?"

Evalin folded her arms, surveying the trees in front of her. "The red isn't bad."

"Dear, if Galan stands in front of it, he's going to blend in." said Rhoe, referring to his brother in law's unfortunate complexion. 

Evalin grinned wryly. "You may be right. A?"

"The crystal. Or...or...Dad, what about you?"

Rhoe shrugged. "As long it's not the purple-blue one, I'm golden."

"Not the golden one." said Aelin. "I think the green."

Evalin nodded thoughtfully. "I did like the green."

"The natural touch might look good." said Aelin.

"Okay, settled." said Rhoe. He raised his voice to the tree tenders nearby. "We'll take the green!"

* * *

 

_This must all seem rather boring, Dorian, but it's still important. Also, I'm overly enthusiastic about Christmas, so you know. I worked my hardest that week, and by Christmas eve the house looked really great. Now you know a little about this already (or you should. I made sure you were invited this time!) but my family throws a massive Christmas party every year on the 25th. All of our family was there, as well as some real important left-wingers. Trust me, it was one of the first times a Havilliard's ever been on the guest list, but I think my dad likes you cause you're a Ravenclaw. Sorry, sorry! Off topic again._

_But yeah. Things didn't really kick up until well into the evening. My long lost great grandmother decided to pay the house a visit, and I'm sure I don't need to tell you how that_ _went._

_I mean. I'm going to anyway. Oh, hush, Dorian._

* * *

  (It's My Party)

"How's everything going?" Evalin asked, her beautiful deep golden robes swishing around her as she leaned over to speak to Aelin. 

"Good, so far." said her daughter, in dress robes of pale, gauzy material in a similar shade of gold. "No one's spilled any food, everyone seems to be having a good time."  

"Thank you, little host." said Evalin, smiling. Her earrings twinkled and spun as she moved her head. "Have you spotted your cousin yet?"

"No, Aedion's made himself scarce." said Aelin. "I think he's still eating, the pig."

"Be  _nice_ to your cousin."

"Oh, I'm nice enough."

"Sure." said Evalin. "So, are your friends coming?"

"Dorian and Chaol?" asked Aelin. She had originally been surprised at how easily her parents had accepted the changes to their guest list, but the slight tightening of Evalin's jaw showed that they truly weren't ready to have, for example, the Westfall patriarch strolling through their antechamber. "I don't think so. Dorian owled me to say he couldn't come, but Chaol wasn't sure."

"Hmm, just as well." said Evalin. She glanced quickly back at Aelin. "Oh, not that they weren't welcome, hon, it's just that with the atmosphere so tense now...I'd hate for them to come out upset."

And Aelin got it. Especially with so many of Terrasen's allies in the crowd, even a Westfall or Havilliard child would be the brute of a lot of torment here. "Hey, I think I see Aedion." said Aelin. "I'll just go..."

"Of course dear. And get some food in you!"

Evalin hurried off before Aelin could move, her elegant bun glimmering under the massive green and golden tree. Sighing, the young girl turned to find her cousin trying to dodge the attention of several well meaning aunts. Grinning, she made her way over to him, and pulled him out of the veritable tornado of chiffon that was Rhoe's side of the family. 

"Come on, then."

Aedion sighed dramatically, a hand on his heart as he followed her to a more secluded area. "Saved my life, A."

"I thought you were drowning."

"Practically."

"My mum thinks I'm mean to you."

Aedion hummed, brushing off his forest green dress robes. "Evalin's always liked me better than you."

Aelin slapped his arm. "Does not."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night." 

"I bet she doesn't know how awful you are to me." but Aelin was still smiling. "Anyone else at this part under the age of thirty?"

Aedion shrugged. "Elide's here...somewhere. I said hello to her before the Chiffon Vultures caught me."

"Oh, good!"

Her cousin cast her a sly look. "Tone down the false cheer, A."

"Don't be ridiculous." said Aelin. "I'm plenty cheerful."

"You never liked Elide."

Aelin sighed, folding her arms. "Her personality is a little grating, but we've reconnected! We're Potions partners."

The unspoken truth practically dangled from her lips. Perhaps Elide and Aelin could've been better mates if the constant pressure to live up to their parent's friendships hadn't existed. 

"I'm sure you're the best of friends now." said Aedion dryly. "And your own additions to the guest list?"

"Dorian's not coming-how could he, right? And Chaol never answered me back, but I doubt he's on his way."

"Havilliard does have some sense." allowed Aedion. "And while your Chaol doesn't share that characteristic, I doubt he'd just show up."

Aelin smiled slightly, still a little sad her friends weren't there. It was weird, but after seeing them every day, she wasn't used to long periods of time without them. "But it would make the party interesting, wouldn't it?"

Aedion seemed to know what she was thinking, and he allowed a brief moment of understanding to pass between them. His eyes drifted, slightly, to the crowd of mingling dress robes. "Hey, that's Nehemia!"

"What?" exclaimed Aelin. Aedion grabbed her sleeve and attempted to pull her towards the newly spotted fourth year. "Aedion, wait!"

Her cousin stopped. "What? You asked about people our age, and she's people our age, and-" he cut himself off at the slow grin on Aelin's face. "What?"

"You  _like_ her."

"What?" 

"Merlin." said Aelin, grin so wide she was practically flashing her wisdom teeth. "You  _like_ her."

"Don't be ridiculous.' said Aedion immediately, though his face was slowly heating up.

"This explains so much! Can I carry your books, Nehemia? I'm sure Aelin won't mind if I sit in your tutoring appointments, Nehemia!" Aelin laughed. "And I wondered why you pushed for the tutoring!"

"I do  _not_ -" he seemed to give up. "Not a  _word_ , Aelin."

She put her hand on her heart. "Never, I swear." Now fully enthused, Aelin hooked her arm around Aedion's. "Alright, let's go see the girl."

"Not a word!"

"I wouldn't dream of it."

Nehemia Ytger was truly a vision though, thought Aelin as they walked over. Her dress robes were white and stiff, and there were gold bangles up and down her arm. Her long braids were arranged in a crown around her head. Basically, she was  prettier than ever. She spotted Aedion and Aelin before they reached her, and smiling, met them halfway.

"Hi, Nehemia!" said Aelin cheerfully. Aedion flushed next to her.

"Hey," he said.

"Hello, Aelin. And you Aedion." said Nehemia, flashing a smile. "Good to see you both."

"I didn't know you were coming!"

"Well, it wasn't really my invitation." said Nehemia, shifting her weight. "My parents are rather well known in Eyllwe, well, I mean  _your_ parents know them. They weren't in a position to come tonight, and insisted I go in their stead."

"Gross." said Aelin and Aedion together. 

Nehemia laughed. "It's really not so bad. It's just this dress that's getting me down, it's so uncomfortable."

"You look really nice though." Aedion offered, trying to ignore Aelin's snicker. 

"Thanks, Aedion, but I've got no love for traditional Eyllwe clothing. Pretty, but very stiff."

Aelin's aunt Marion, Elide's mother, suddenly came sweeping through the crowd. "Aedion-" she gasped. 

All three students jerked back in surprise. "Aunt Marion!" cried Aelin. "Are you alright?"

She didn't  _look_ alright. She looked panicked. Marion didn't even look at Aelin, her eyes were fixed on her cousin. "Aedion, you need to come with me right now."

"I don't understand." said Aedion, wary.

"Right  _now_."

"Go." said Aelin, confused. She looked between the two of them. "Go on, go, I'll figure this out."

Aedion nodded, and Marion seized his arm. "Aelin, find your mother." she said, before making off with Aedion. Nehemia, mouth opened to voice her confusion, leaned in. Aelin shook her head.

"Sorry, Nehemia, but I better go see what that's about." she said, already scanning the crowd for her parents.

"Go." said Nehemia, nodding. 

Aelin smiled sadly at her, but pushed through the crowd. The atmosphere had changed. It was no longer jovial, but there were tense whispers echoing through the ballroom. The dancers on the floor had stopped their graceful waltz and pushed, uncertain to the side. And finally, Aelin spotted her mother standing proud, worry lines evident, in front of a tall, thin woman with dark hair swept into a bun.

She had never seen the woman before, but seemed to recognize her on sight. Queen Maeve, of the fae, in  their party!

* * *

 

(And I'll Cry If I Want To)

"Evalin!"

The hostess turned to find her good friend Cal Lochan practically power walking towards her, a fearsome look on his face. 

"Cal, hello." said Evalin, slight worry in her eyes. She gripped his arms in a vaguely welcoming gesture, to steady him. "What's wrong?"

"You have company." 

Evalin blinked. "I know, dear, this is a party."

" _No_ , Evalin, I meant in a rather threatening sense." Cal pointed to a just arrived party of latecomers. There were around men men and women, children as well, and all hyper beautiful. Evalin's mouth dried.

"No." she said, taking a step back. "There's no way."

Cal's wife Marion nearly slammed into them both. "Evalin, that's-"

"I know who that is." said Evalin, gritting her teeth. She paled suddenly. "Oh, Merlin and Agrippa."

"What?" asked Cal.

"Aedion."

He swore. "We can't let her find him."

Evalin scrutinized the group, and a familiar man was indeed in their midst. "Hell, he's here. He  _can't_ see Aedion, if he finds out, she'll know. That's not happening."

"Ev, I know you're worried, but..."

"Marion, that boy is my nephew and my responsibility.  _Nothing_ will harm him while he is under my protection." Evalin all but growled. She turned to her best friend. "Find him. Get him out of here. Take him to the kitchens. Hell, take him to Perranth, leave nothing to chance."

Marion nodded, a glint of determination sliding over her gaze. She strode away. Evalin turned to Cal.

"She'll find me first. I'm Maeve's direct descendant, she'll want to talk to me first. But I need-" and here her voice cracked. "-I need Rhoe."

Cal clapped her on the shoulder, a moment of solidarity. "I'll find him." he said, before turning on his heel and hurrying after his wife. 

And here, Evalin Ashryver had about a minute to gather herself. She knew she looked perfect, but she needed to construct the kind of mental walls being in direct contact with her great great grandmother required. First and foremost, she had to keep the children way.

The fae queen was upon her.

"Evalin." 

Her voice was cold, but practically thrummed with magic, power. It grated on Evalin's ears, but she turned, controlled, to face Maeve. 

"Grandmother." She did not curtsy. "I didn't receive your RSVP."

Maeve was tall, and beautiful. However, she didn't have Evalin's good-natured light, her beauty was more visceral. Like steaming ice, ready to deliver frostbite upon a single touch. She was wearing black dress robes, simple ones, but cut with diamonds meant to impress. She laughed, and it hurt. "Oh, you're still bold. No, I'm afraid my attendance was rather a snap decision."

"I'm glad you could make it." said Evalin. She didn't smile back. "There's food in the other room."

"That's not necessary." said Maeve. "I'm more interested in this...ah, household you've built up. And this, I assume, is your husband?"

For Rhoe had come up behind her, silently. He bowed his head slightly. "Queen Maeve."

"Galathynius." her attention snapped back to Evalin. "I haven't seen you since you were sixteen."

"Yes, but I RSVP'd to  _that_ party." said Evalin. 

"You've grown." said Maeve, completely ignoring the quip. 

"People age as time passes." added Rhoe dryly. Evalin stepped on his foot. 

Maeve still wasn't paying any attention to him. "And despite your constant invitations, you don't seem very prepared to meet me."

Evalin smiled, cold and dangerous. What was she supposed to say? That the Ashryver line, even so tied with Maeve's family, hadn't met with the queen outside Doranelle in centuries?  "I hope that wasn't a comment on my hosting skills. And after all, it's _dangerous_ to withhold an invitation from  _family_."

The queen seemed to be done with pleasantries. "Where is your daughter?"

"She's mingling." said Rhoe, laying a hand on his wife's shoulder to keep her from bearing her teeth at Maeve. "I'm sure you'll see her sometime tonight."

The unspoken sentiment:  _Not if we can help it._

"I want to see her now. Summon her."

Evalin choked out a laugh. "That's not how children work."

"Her name is Aelin, correct?" asked Maeve, dismissive as ever. 

"Correct."

Evalin's eyes widened, as her own daughter emerged from the crowd behind Maeve. Her voice had rung out. Aelin crossed the floor to her parents, before curtsying deep to Maeve. 

"Grandmother."

"Oh, I'm much older than that, child." Maeve stepped forward, presumably to inspect Aelin, but Evalin let forth a slight, quiet, somehow visceral growl. Her grandmother stopped, and raised an eyebrow at the protective gesture. 

"Aelin, why don't you go find Elide?" said Rhoe, stepping forward. "And Queen Maeve, we invite you again to enjoy the rest of the party." He slung an arm around Evalin's shoulder. "We ought the get back to hosting. Thank you for coming."

"No." said Maeve. "I think I've seen all I need to. I'm leaving."

"Leaving?" asked Evalin with disbelief. 

"I'll leave some of my court-bad manners not to, of course." said the queen. "But I've seen all I need to. Goodbye, Evalin."

"Goodbye, Grandmother."

"And expect me sometime soon. It seems I've neglected the human branch of my family."

"We've don just fine." said Evalin quietly.

With a final glance at Aelin, Maeve turned and vanished suddenly. No puff of smoke, no shimmer, she was just gone.

* * *

_Yeah, I don't think I ever told you that I was related to Maeve. Yup. That Maeve. Queen of the fae, and all. She's not actually my great grandmother, but if you stick a couple dozen 'great's in front of the title, you got it. My mum's even sorta related to her sister, I forget how. _

_(Mab, by the way, not Mora.)_

_Basically the Ashryver line is fae central. Ring your father for me, Dorian, see if he wants to kill us even more now._

_Just joking. Anyway, Maeve showed up and threw us all for a loop. My aunt Marion ( not_ _my real aunt. Elide's mum) whisked Aedion away to Perranth as soon as she got here, for some reason. I haven't gotten that out of my parents yet. But she left after like, five minutes. That didn't mean we were in the clear though. She left about a dozen fae (and two demi-fae, I learned later) milling about in our party! Rude, am I right? Now  my parents are wound up, Aunt Marion is nowhere to be found, and my Uncle Cal literally looks like he'd attack the next fae that took a picture by our tree._

_And worst of all, they all seemed to want to talk to me._

* * *

(Kitty-Cat Friend)

"Hey."

Aelin looked up at the incredibly tall man in front of her. No,  _fae_ , she corrected herself. He looked like he was in his mid-twenties, but Aelin knew ages were deceiving among the immortal.

"Hi?" she asked, doubtful. He had hair as golden as hers, but his most defining characteristic was that he looked incredibly sheepish.

He sat down next to her. She scooted slightly away from him. 

"Um," he started. "You're...Evalin's daughter, right?"

"Yeah." said Aelin.

"Evalin and Rhoe's daughter."

"Yes." said Aelin. "Why?"

"And you're  _sure_?"

"Yes!" said Aelin. "Are you  _trying_ to insult me? Or my parentage?"

The fae recoiled, putting up his hands in a vaguely defensive gesture. "No! Sorry! Just, um, making sure."

"Well, you've made sure!" cried Aelin, fierce. The fae drooped slightly. "Now, scram."

He scrammed. 

* * *

(Bonded By Salt)

When the second person with fae parentage sat next to her, Aelin was ready to blow. But as she turned and looked at the offender, she relaxed. It was just a kid. Just a Hogwarts kid. 

"Hey?" she started, slightly intrigued. 

The boy glanced at her. "Oh, hey."

"Do you have a reason for being here, or did you just really need to sit down?"

"If I'm sitting here," the boy explained. "No one I came here with will approach me. I think they're all scared of you, after seeing Gav run away like that."

Aelin smiled slightly, kinda pleased with that explanation. "Gav?" she asked.

"Gavriel. You were talking to him."

"Oh!" Aelin nodded. "He was weird."

"Yeah, he kinda is." the boy sighed, loudly. 

"So..." prompted Aelin. "Why don't you want to talk to the people you came with? You're one of the fae, right?"

"Demi-fae." he supplied. "They just really annoy me sometimes. But the queen is really close to my parents, and she makes me go everywhere with them."

"Not everywhere, at least. I mean, you're at Hogwarts."

The boy nodded. "Yeah, yeah. Speaking of, where's Aedion?"

"No clue." said Aelin quickly. She had no idea why Aedion was so taboo with these people, but she wasn't going to try it. "You're in his year?"

"Yeah, but Slytherin."

"Oh, did you see Elide?" asked Aelin politely. 

"Yeah. We talked."

Aelin let a silence drag. "I'm Aelin Galathynius."

He looked at her like she was an idiot. " _Yeah_. It's your party. I know."

"No," said Aelin, annoyed. "This is where you offer your name. Cause I don't know you."

"Oh." said the boy, finally taking the social cue. "Oh, I'm Rowan."

"Please to meet you." said Aelin, rolling her eyes. "Who the hell are they, anyway?"

She pointed to the well dressed fae plaguing her party. Rowan made a face. "They're the queen's favorites, right now. It's Gav, and Vaughn, and the twins, and Lorcan."

"That one looks our age."

"Oh, yeah, Lorcan's two years older than me. But he's  _pure_ fae, so he goes to Beauxbatons."

Aelin frowned. "What does that have to do with him being fae?"

Rowan shrugged. "Maeve liked France."

"France is gross."

"Yeah."

"So  _no one_ but you goes to Hogwarts?"

"Nah." said Rowan, and Aelin could have sworn he blushed. He pointed to a girl with long, dark hair chattering with the Lorcan kid. "She goes to Hogwarts. Demi-fae. She's in Gryffindor."

"Cool." said Aelin. "I don't know her."

"She's in my year." said Rowan, eyes fixed on the girl.

Aelin snorted. "Moon a little less, will you?"

Rowan looked at her. "What?"

"Just...nothing. Chill out." said Aelin, rolling her eyes. 

Rowan huffed. "Whatever."

"Whatever." said Aelin, waving a hand. 

* * *

  _Dorian, I think that's it. My Christmas. In full. It sounds kinda lame now, I guess, but well. You had to be there._

_Can I just say how glad I am that you weren't? Maeve would've killed you on sight! And then I'd have to fight her, and I'd hate to leave Doranella queenless._

_But it was crazy. Tense, and full of...you know what it feels like, Dorian? It feels like a set up. Like something is gonna happen real soon, and all of this, Aedion, my grandmother, the fae party-it's all gonna be connected. Last night felt like exposition of the worst kind._

_Like I said, I'm kinda bad at narrative. Forgive me?_

_Anyways, I expected a full report on your own Christmas. I actually took the time to write all this down, so you better bring it. I'm sure that you've got a much better story than I do._

_Your friend,_

_Aelin_

She put down the quill, her hand aching. It was quite late, now, but Aelin blew on the parchment to let the ink dry. She clucked her tongue, calling her father's owl closer, before sealing and attaching the letter onto his outstretched leg.

The image of the owl flying away was burned onto her mind as she fell asleep.

* * *

 

Evalin Ashryver, on December 26th, was unbraiding her hair before she went to bed. She was also completely paralyzed with fear.

The bed dipped beside her, and her husband slid close.

"Ev. Evalin."

She made a noncommittal noise, before shaking her head.

"Evalin, talk to me." said Rhoe, patient.  

"She said," started Evalin. "She said to expect her. She said she had been neglecting us."

"I heard." said Rhoe.

Evalin's hands began to shake, and her husband grabbed them in his own. "If we hadn't gotten Aedion out in time...if she had found Aelin before talking to me-"

"We did." said Rhoe roughly, "We did get him out. Aelin behaved admirably. Everything is fine."

"We have to be careful." said Evalin. "We have to be so, so, careful, Rhoe."

"We can do this." he said quietly. "We can beat her."

"There is no beating her. She's  _Maeve_."

"We can beat her." repeated Rhoe. His conviction let Evalin smile. Just a little. She sobered quickly.

"If you really think that, we have work to do."

"Work?"

"Yeah." said Evalin. Her gaze hardened. "Cause she's not gonna stay gone."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo, twelve year old rowan, am i right? 
> 
> Comment and let me know what you think of this chapter! It was probably the most ambitious style of writing I ever tried out, but hey.  
> Reviews are rowaelin bonding by how salty they both are


	6. Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saturday morning, ten o'clock sharp, there were around 180 wizards gathered in Adarlan lands for the Erilean Wizarding Conference.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took forever but in my defense: star wars  
> chapter was written with "Roses" playing on repeat but like the song by the chainsmokers and also the song by outkast. Much love to Outkast for penning the phrase "pardon me, are you balling". All the chapter quotes in this one are from either song

* * *

**Chapter 6- Roses**

or

"Wake Up Call"

"Dorian Havilliard!"

The boy in question had barely turned around before a green-and-gold blur hit him square and solid in the chest. Gangly as he was, Dorian took a few stumbling steps backward, but caught himself in time to realize that the weight on his chest was in fact, Aelin, wrapped in her forest green cloak.

"Hey." he said weakly, attempting a charming smile.

Aelin untwisted her arms from around her head. 

"So I see you're back?"

"Yeah!" said Aelin, laughing. "Just now. I haven't seen you in  _weeks_! How was your break? Do you know where Chaol is? Did you get my letter?"

"Give me some space to breathe, eh, Galathynius?" said Dorian, relaxing into their routine. He wrapped an arm around Aelin's shoulder, tucking her under his arm. She grinned, half hugging him back. Dorian began to steer her to the Great Hall. "Of all the places to accost me, the fourth floor?"

"The Charms wing is a good place." said Aelin.

"Cause I'm charming?"

"No, dolt, cause  _I'm_ charming."

"That's modest."

"I sell my skill, Dorian, what can I say?" Aelin nudged him. "So?"

"So?"

She sighed. "Chaol? Your break? My letter? You never wrote back."

"Chaol's in the castle, actually." said Dorian casually. "He came back early, right before Christmas. Not sure why. I wouldn't try to talk to him about it either." he warned. "He gets unbelievably terse."

"No, I believe it." said Aelin. She frowned, worried for her friend and unsatisfied with Dorian's method of handling him. "I know...I know you probably know best, but are you sure he's best off alone?"

"Oh, no, not alone." said Dorian. "I've spent nearly every moment with him. Company is good, but not...not an inquisition." 

"A  _what_?"

"Just. Just trust me."

"Sure." Aelin brightened. "Hey, I know what'll cheer him up!"

"Yeah?"

"My dad got me Harpies tickets for Christmas! There are two extra tickets."

Dorian froze. "The  _Holyhead Harpies_?"

"The same."

"Merlin, Aelin, how did he score them so late in the season?"

"My dad works in the DMLE, at the Ministry." said Aelin. "But my uncle Cal works at the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Plus, he got these ages ago, back in September."

"And we can really go?"

"Yeah! The games in two weeks, on a Saturday, and Dad's already cleared it with the Headmistress."

"Who's playing?" asked Dorian, giddier than she had ever seen him.

"They're versing Puddlemere."

Dorian stopped,  yanking Aelin backwards. "Puddlemere United."

"Uh, yeah." said Aelin, shrugging off his arm. "What's up?"

A slow grin was creeping across the boy's face. "Maybe you  _shouldn't_ invite Chaol."

"Why?"

"Because if I know you, you'll be cheering for the Harpies. Nesryn told me you have a poster of Florine above your bed."

"Yeah, so?" asked Aelin, not at all defensive about her ungodly love for the captain of the Harpies.

" _So_ Chaol's favorite team is Puddlemere, and there's no way you two aren't going to kill each other."

Aelin's jaw dropped. " _Puddlemere_? He likes Puddlemere? Why? The-the  _Tornados_ beat Puddlemere last season!"

"He's a fanatic." said Dorian sagely. 

"That's...ridiculous." said Aelin, shaking her head. "He's uninvited. You're uninvited. Heads up, I'm taking Manon Blackbeak."

Dorian's answering laugh was far too long, and by the time he could stop chortling to himself, they had reached Gryffindor tower. Aelin and Chaol were long past the point where it felt weird to bring Dorian into the Gryffindor common room, and most of the Gryffindors themselves had gotten used to the sight of the tall Ravenclaw. The only exception, of course, was in November, during the first Gryffindor-Ravenclaw Quidditch match of the year. 

They didn't have to look far before seeing Chaol, sprawled on one of the couches by the fire with a book in hand. Aelin let out a shriek, and sprinted towards him, before unceremoniously plopping herself practically in his lap in an attempt to hug him properly. 

Chaol let out a rather strangled noise. "God, Aelin!"

"Thanks, love, but another higher power claims  _that_ name-hey!" she yelped as Chaol, with equally little ceremony, dumped her on to the seat next to him. Dorian came round the couch, still laughing, and sat next to her.

"So absence doesn't make the heart grow fonder?" he quipped.

Aelin gasped in mock outrage, tossing an arm around Chaol's shoulders and dragging him closer. "We are  _plenty_ fond of each other."

"Yeah. Plenty fond." Chaol deadpanned. Aelin turned to face him, tucking up her legs underneath her body. 

"Tell me about your break, Chaol. Both of you, actually."

The boys exchanged a look. "Actually," said Dorian. "I think you had a much more eventful time. How come you never told us you were related to the fae queen Maeve?"

Aelin looked a little sheepish. "It never came up?" she sighed. "Okay, I'm very tenuously related to her. She's my great great great, however many 'great's are accurate, grandmother. That's...not all, but that's the gist."

"We're listening, A.' said Chaol. "No point in holding back."

The Gryffindor girl stared at her hands, mouth twisting. Okay. She hadn't expected to have this conversation in a while. Finally, steeling herself, Aelin looked up at the fire and leaned back on the couch. "This has a lot to do with who I am. Who my parents are, with Terrasen." she looked at her friends. "I'm sure you're at least a little familiar with Terrasen."

"Terrasen." nodded Dorian. "Yeah. A gathering of demi-fae magical witches and wizards. Like a union, right?"

She smiled at that. "Sort of like that, yes. We even have lands, small, but enough to count us as Erilea. I suppose a more accurate description would be 'political party'. My mom and dad kinda run the court-we call it a court, Terrasen's court-and mostly because our blood can be traced back to the three fae queens. Galathynius blood goes back to Brannon, who was technically common, but he founded Terrasen when Maeve was running rampant, so his magic and blood is considered royal. My mother's an Ashryver. Mab married an Ashryver way back when, so we're directly descended from her. Maeve is technically my great aunt in that respect, but she had a line with a warrior from Terrasen called Athril, and that child managed to marry into the Ashryvers. So she's my aunt and my grandmother."

Aelin took a deep breath. Reciting something her parents had made her memorize years ago brought waves of nostalgia and slight alarm. Family lineage was important to her family. 

"Maeve originally opposed to my parent's marraige, cause she thought the mixing of Brannon and her magic would be volatile. Well, uh, I turned out fine anyway. That's when the bad blood between the queen and my mother started. They never got along, and Mum had these appeals for the better treatment of demi-fae in the fae court back when she was like, eighteen. They don't hate each other, but my mum's always made it really clear that Maeve would exploit me and Aedion first chance she got. She's been trying to keep us away from her, and it worked out fine until this Christmas."

"So that's why you said everything got tense." said Chaol, a little overwhelmed by the family history lesson. Aelin nodded.

Dorian frowned. "Okay, but what did she mean about your magic being volatile?"

"We all get a little of a more natural fae magic." explained Aelin. "Most demi-fae don't have a lick of power aside from normal wizardry. And then some do, even if it's mostly useless power. Like knowing when it's going to rain. It's totally random. My dad doesn't have anything, but my mum's got a lot of Mab's power. She can heal small cuts and summon a lot of water. I think Maeve was worried Brannon and Mab's magic wouldn't mix, cause Brannon was a powerful fire user."

"Did you get anything?" Chaol wanted to know.

Aelin shrugged. "I don't think so. If I did, we're still waiting for it to manifest." she brightened slightly. "Aedion's got some! He has really good senses. Like,  _really_ good. Better than some full fae, even."

Dorian cracked a small smile. "Can you imagine if you had both powers? Fire and water? And each time you summoned something, all you'd get was steam."

"I was spared that embarrassment, at least." Aelin rolled her eyes. "But she just showed up! No warning! And she brought like half her court with her."

"Really?" asked Dorian. "How many?"

"Were they all fae?" asked Chaol.

"At least twelve." said Aelin. "And no, actually. There were two demi-fae. Around our age, Hogwarts kids. This kid, Rowan-"

"Slytherin." said Dorian.

"-and he pointed out this Gryffindor girl I didn't know."

"Weird to think about." said Chaol. "That people who work for your...grandmother-aunt are running round the castle."

"They're like twelve, Chaol. How much damage could they do?"

Chaol just shook his head gravely. "Second years are  _monsters_ , A."

Aelin snorted. Dorian pressed on. "So that's Terrasen."

"That's Terrasen. I'm sure," she added quickly. "that you'll not write this all to either of your fathers."

Chaol scowled. "As if I'd ever."

Dorian just looked sad. Aelin lay a hand over his, in solidarity. 

"There's only one thing I don't get." continued Chaol. "Why political party?"

"Previous royalty, you know?" said Aelin, mockingly flippant. "We not only represent a lot of part-humans and marginalized witches and wizards, we have strong footholds in the Ministry by which to further our..."

"Your agenda." said Dorian.

Aelin blinked, feeling herself get a little defensive. "Yeah. Our agenda. Nonviolence and destruction of discrimination."

"I didn't mean-" started Dorian, staring at his hands.

"Don't worry about it." said Aelin. "Anyway, none of this is a secret. It's just not common knowledge. And tensions were so high, my parents barely spoke to any guests after she left."

"That's rough." said Chaol. "Was it all bad?"

She smiled. "No, not at all. Decorating was fun, and the actual party was alright. Oh, I saw Nehemia."

"That's nice." said Dorian. "Do your parents know her?"

"I think they know her parents." shrugged Aelin. "Apparently they couldn't get away...I wonder if she'll be at the EWC."

Chaol frowned. 

"Oh, come on." said Aelin. "Both of your families are political powerhouses. The Erilean Wizarding Conference."

"Oh, that." said Dorian, relaxing. "My dad goes."

"I don't think mine does." said Chaol. "But Anielle's in Adarlan, so..."

Her mouth twisted automatically at the name of her least favorite entity. "Anyway the conference is next week. My dad thought the turnout for the Harpies would be a little less cause of it."

"What Harpies?" asked Chaol.

Aelin blinked. She had forgotten to tell him. 

"What Harpies?" repeated Chaol, growing suspicious. His eyes widened. "Aelin-"

She nodded.

"You got  _tickets_? For the  _Puddlemere/Holyhead Harpies_ game?" Chaol exclaimed loudly. His voice was slowly growing in pitch. "And you waited this long to tell me?  _What_ _?_ Aelin!"

* * *

 

(Cursed Out, Or Coming Up Short)

"The issue with practical Defensive magic," said Professor Hamel as he paced back and forth in front of the blackboard. "is mostly that it's unpredictable. Instinctual. In Charms or Transfiguration, there are certainly times where it is necessary to turn a cat into a tea kettle but the class offers a lingering knowledge or root words in spells and their affects on magic." he paused, remembering that most of his class of fourth years didn't know what a root word was. He cracked a smile. "But I'm sure you'll get to all that later.

Nehemia sat, legs crossed, chin propped up with a hand, square in the middle of the room. Her quill was poised over a sheet of parchment, ready to take notes, but it looked like Professor Hamel enjoyed a rather difficult style of lecturing. He liked theoretical concepts and big picture problems, while Nehemia was sure the rest of the class would just rather have notes on how to get rid of a grindylow. 

And yet, the students seemed to love him anyway. 

_"When defending yourself against the dark arts, you must take into consideration that your opponent will almost always be human, will almost always have the same thought processes and feelings and powers as you."_

It didn't matter. DADA wasn't just a class for Nehemia. Her desk partner was Archer Finn, and while her pose was the picture of naturalism, he seemed to be avoiding the professor's eye.

She kicked him lightly under the desk. "What are you doing?" Nehemia whispered. She borrowed a term from Aelin's lexicon. "Chill."

The boy next to her almost smiled at her heavily accented 'chill', but he shook his head. "Sorry. Whatever."

"Don't 'whatever' me, Finn." said Nehemia, rolling her eyes. "Talk."

"Are you ready for the EWC?"

"-about what's bothering  _you_ , idiot."

He repeated the question. "Because you have to remember, your our eyes and ears."

"Listen." said Nehemia in a low, dangerous voice. "I've been basically running our little effort since I was twelve.  _Yes_ , I'm bloody ready for the conference, now  _what is wrong with you_?"

_"You have to react. It's base instinct, something that may be tough to think about now, at this stage. But I'm going to be completely honest with you all. In a dueling situation, no matter the amount of preparation, the one with the best gut and the most nerve will come out the wiser. Ah, yes, Gryffindors, no need to look smug, I mean..."_

"I don't want to talk about it." said the Slytherin. 

"Archer-"

"With you."

Nehemia stopped, freezing. He didn't want to talk about it with her. She had forgotten her persona of Hogwarts Golden Girl was lost on someone who had helped her create it. She blinked, feeling stunted and almost a little hurt. "Fine. Get back to me with Allsbrook's questions for the EWC later."

_"The question remains: are you willing to do what you need to in order to win?"_

* * *

 (Take It Slow, But It's Not Typical) 

 Far away from Hogwarts, in a darkened room in the old war bunker of a Muggle extension of Orynth mansion, Rhoe Galathynius was holding court. Or rather, he was preparing himself. Only the Lochans had arrived so far, and Rhoe found himself in the far corner of the room, at a drinks cart, pouring whiskey.

"You know, I love the mood lighting." said Rhoe, gesturing to the dark room and the bright white table in the center of it, shining with harsh artificial light. It was the only light source in the room. "But I still think it's unnecessary. We're not exactly plotting to assassinate the Minister."

"I know it's a defense mechanism, Rhoe, but don't make fun." His wife sat at the very head of the table, palms flat on the surface. Evalin's face was covered in eerie shadow, product of the table's odd light. "We needed to meet. The full court."

He raised his drink to her, and sat directly opposite, at the other end of the table. 

"Are we doing this, then?" asked Cal Lochan, his dark blond hair looking almost silver. Marion stood next to him, built like a ballerina and unearthly beautiful. Her black hair was loose around her shoulders, and paired with the light it made her look severe and almost ill. 

"We have no choice." said Rhoe.

Cal nodded, deeply. He sat to Rhoe's immediate right. Marion mirrored him on the other end of the table, at Evalin's side. 

"We should talk." said Evalin. "Before the court arrives." 

The court. Perranth, Suria, Rosamel, Allsbrook, the Anascauls. And Orynth. 

"What is this about?" asked Marion.

Rhoe looked away, jaw tightening. The Lochans looked to him in alarm. "That bad?" asked Cal.

"It's bad." said Evalin quietly.

"My uncle's dead." said Rhoe. 

Marion gasped, scooting back from the table. Cal didn't react visibly, but he certainly held in a few breaths. Rhoe's eyes were fixed on his wife, who nodded. 

"H-how?" asked Cal, when he had found his voice. Marion shook her head in disbelief.

Because if  _was_ disbelief running through the room. Even though Rhoe and Evalin had known that Orlon, their  _king_ , had died twenty-four hours ago, they hadn't wept. They hadn't mourned, because they really hadn't accepted it. 

Marion got up, and poured herself a drink.

And of course Rhoe, with his Ravenclaw mind, had run the logistics, had done all the calculations. He knew what Orlon's death meant. Neither he or Evalin had slept since they heard the news, busy trying to find a foothold of control on a situation that was definitely not premeditated. 

They should have seen this coming. The details were still filtering in, but they should have seen it coming. They should have reacted faster. Because now, they were all stuck in a massive mess. More live could be lost. It was when Rhoe finally voiced this concern that Evalin stood up and called for a meeting of Terrasen's court.

Just as she was Flooing the Lochans, Rhoe had tugged her sleeve. "What do we tell Aelin?"

He knew the answer. He just didn't want to say it aloud. Evalin, the brave one, did it for him. "We don't."

* * *

 (Roses Really Smell Like)

Aelin walked out of Transfiguration, utterly spent and terrified for the future. 

"Um," said Chaol. He walked next to her. "Are you okay?"

"No."

"No?"

Aelin's eyes were wide. "I can't believe she just did that."

"Who? Professor Feldman?"

"Yes!"

"A, what about her?"

"An exam, Chaol!" cried Aelin. "A composite Transfiguration exam. In two weeks! How could she do this to me?"

Chaol smiled, seeing humor in the situation. "Aelin, it's just a test."

"In my worst subject. Chaol, I'm dying."

"Look, you've got a tutor, yeah?" pressed Chaol, far too optimistic. "And Dorian's best in our year, he'll help you."

" _Dy-ing_."

"Drama queen."

"How, exactly, am I supposed to appear for an exam on-what was it? Magical Properties of Transfiguration."

"It's all very general. You do fine on your other exams."

Aelin groaned. "Yeah, but not  _Transfiguration."_

 "At least there's very little practical magic." said Chaol. "Look, you've got two weeks."

"Maybe I can blackmail Ghislaine into letting me cheat off her paper..."

"Aelin!"

"Just kidding, just kidding." laughed Aelin, finally finding something to smile about in the situation. "Where's Dorian?"

"He's got Charms, remember?" said Chaol. "I saw him leave with that Sorscha girl."

"Right, Ravenclaw." nodded Aelin. They began to walk down the staircase to the dungeons. "Anyway, when am I going to study? Next week is the Harpies, and this weekend, the one in _two days_ , is the EWC."

"But you're not  _going_ to the EWC, right? And you've got another week."

Aelin rolled her eyes. "Yes, but it's the first Gryffindor/Slytherin match of the year Sunday after next, and I  _need_ to see Blackbeak fly."

"I'm charmed." said a cool voice behind them. Aelin flushed, because of course she could only start talking about Manon Blackbeak before the girl in question showed up. She didn't seem to be staying to talk, though, as the Slytherin walked with her golden haired Hufflepuff friend. Aelin stuck her tongue out at her. Manon blew her a kiss.

"Watch your back, Blackbeak." she called to Manon's retreating back. Chaol was snickering next to her. "What?"

"Come on, A. If you were a bloke, I'd say you had a crush."

"I don't have to be a  _bloke_ to-hey! I do not! Not the point."

"Just kidding, just kidding." mocked Chaol, repeating her earlier words.

"You're the worst."

"What happened to us being 'plenty fond' of each other?"

"I've reevaluated my options." said Aelin. "Goodbye forever."

"Oh, shut up, let's go to Potions."

* * *

 (Deep In My Bones)

Evalin ended the meeting. Murtagh Allsbrook, while their people filtered out of the bunker, stopped by Rhoe's seat. He Conjured a dozen white roses.

"My condolences."

Rhoe said nothing.

* * *

 (Down to Mars Girls)

Aelin really liked being in her dorm most nights. Not only was it a good atmosphere for homework, but hanging with the boys did get a little trying after a while. 

Mostly, though, she had already found uses for most of her friends. While none of them were  _close_ , they all provided something for her. Take Vesta, for example. She was one of Manon's inner circle, so Aelin should honestly dislike her on principle (Chaol was  _crazy_ ), but they still had fun together. Vesta was as shallow as they came, a little like Lysandra, Aelin thought. But she was wicked clever, and if Aelin ever needed any local gossip clarification, Vesta was the girl to go to. Also, she had  _personally_ told Aelin that Manon was having a little difficulty with her spot on the Quidditch team, even if she was loath to admit it.

Aelin had nearly kissed her upon hearing that. 

And then there was Ansel. She was probably the most similar in temperament to Aelin, and the two had the very strange situation of being partnered together for almost every class. She was funny, down to earth, and someone Aelin really thought she could come to be good friends with. 

If she looked deep enough, she would realize that she had most of her close friend bases covered with Dorian and Chaol. After all, she had told them about Maeve, and had felt totally comfortable with it. That kind of friendship, maybe Ansel wasn't cut out for.

(Plus, Aelin had seen Ansel hex a Hufflepuff once between classes for no conceivable reason, and while the girl's temperament was lovely and all, that's not someone she wanted her secrets to be out with.)

Nesryn, on the other hand, was probably the most perfect person who had ever existed, in Aelin's opinion. She was funny too, but in a sort of dry way that Aelin really enjoyed. Yes, there was a brief period of time where Aelin had been real sour about the fact that Nesryn seemed to get on really well with Chaol. But hey, she was possessive of what few friends she had, and slowly the bitterness seeped out of her as Aelin had realized that Nesryn was incredibly amazing. Anytime that the noise of Hogwarts got too loud for her, anytime her father sent a Daily Politics Report that she just had to digest for a while, Aelin went to Nesryn's four poster bed. She shut herself in the smaller girl's hangings and just sat, and Nesryn let her. Her presence was a calming agent, but also promoted a logical way of feeling about things.

And for Aelin, who needed a long time to process and think about her emotions, this was invaluble. 

Sorrel existed in Aelin's sphere for the sole purpose of curbing Vesta's impulses. She was also one of Manon's, but, like Vesta, she was actually  _tolerable_. She didn't talk much, but any time Vesta (or Ansel, now)  said something like "Let's go on a picnic in the Forbidden Forest!" at midnight, all Sorrel had to do was shoot her one of those stone glares. Vesta would then glare, grumble, but wouldn't mention it anymore. A skill like that was pretty much legendary.

But honestly? She didn't think she was totally ready to hang out with all of them together. 

Which was why, when Vesta declared a slumber party, Aelin was one of the first to dryly remark, "Vesta, hon, we live together."

The girl put her hands on her hips, pursing her lips. "Aelin,  _hon_ , it's not the same and you know it."

Nesryn was just about to pull the hangings of her bed closed when Vesta made her declaration. She leaned forward, birdlike features enhanced by a quirked eyebrow. "While that may be true-"

"It's a Friday." said Vesta. "We don't have classes tomorrow. What's the problem?"

Aelin waited for Sorrel to say something.

Nesryn answered first. "Far too much work."

"I don't know." said Ansel, shifting on her bed. "I think it might be kinda fun."

Vesta crowed her conversion. Aelin rolled her eyes. "Look, how is this gonna be any different than what we normally do? We  _live together_."

"Slumber parties are different." said Ansel.

"Well, I wouldn't know. I've never attended one."

Vesta gasped horrendously. " _What?"_

Nesryn stood up.  Aelin shrugged. "I've never had the opportunity. I mean, Aedion stayed over a lot, but-"

"That's not the same at all." said Sorrel. Aelin shot her a withering glance. She finally piped in, and she wasn't even on the right side. "We need to get to know one another properly, anyway."

"Okay." Nesryn declared. "You've converted me. We're doing this."

Vesta's smiled was ear splitting. Aelin looked helplessly at Nesryn, but the smaller girl just smirked. 

"Come on, Galathynius." said Ansel, grinning. "Let's show you the light."

"Okay." said Vetsa, bossy. "Everyone sit on the floor. In a circle."

"This is silly." said Aelin, complying. Sorrel shot her a grin.

"Yeah, but that's at least half the point."

When they were all seated, Vesta rushed and turned off the lights, insisting the only light were old candles she had brought and Lumos spells. 

"Okay," she said, once the atmosphere was acceptable. "What now?"

"Don't  _you_ know?"

"Don't wither, Aelin, it's unbecoming." Vesta shook her head. "Ah. A classic. Truth or Dare?"

Thankfully, this time Sorrel stepped in. "At Hogwarts? Vesta, you get a little carried away with your dares, and here it could be dangerous..."

"You big bore." said Vesta. "Fine. What about just Truth? Any objections?"

There were none.

"This is a  _great_ way of getting to know each other." said Vesta. "Properly, I mean. So, I'll start, and I'll ask a question, and the person I ask will get the next one, kay?"

They all nodded.

"Okay! My question's for Aelin. How have you never had a slumber party?"

Aelin shrugged. "I wasn't lying before. I just didn't know many other girls my age. It was basically just Elide-Elide Lochan- and me, and she hardly ever visited. All of you can chill, though, I was fine with my life without these things."

They stared at her. Ansel blinked. "So you never had a girl friend?"

"Nah." said Aelin. "But I never needed one."

"Huh." said Nesryn. "I feel like I understand you way more now."

"Well, ain't that the point of this? Do I get a question, now?" At their nods, Aelin pursed her lips. "Sorrel. How long have you known Blackbeak?"

It was like her name was a magic word. Both Sorrel and Vesta straightened up, looking more competent that they had a right to. "Since birth." said Sorrel, without hesitation. She didn't clarify. "Nesryn. Who do you write to twice a week?"

Nesryn jerked back, surprised. "What?"

"Who do you write to? It's twice a week, clockwork, you go to the Owlry for like twenty minutes."

"I don't right anyone." said Nesryn, a little stiff. "I meet some friends there now and then."

"But it's like  _clockwork_ -"

"Vesta." there was definitely an edge in her voice now. "What are you two  _doing_ with Manon Blackbeak?"

A silence stretched out. "Maybe this was a bad idea." said Vesta, eyes somber. "I shouldn't have suggested it."

"No." said Nesryn, heatedly. "You shouldn't have suggested  _Truth or Dare_ when it's very clear that we have secrets, Vesta. Real secrets. Oh, come on, there's not a person here who doesn't! Ansel, I've never heard you talk about your family, Sorrel and Vesta, you're  _literally_ part of a  _cult_ , and Aelin? Those 'daily politics' things you keep mentioning? That's weird, and creepy, that you could probably give political profiles on every single one of our parents. Heck,  _especially_ these two Ironteeth-"

"Stop." said Aelin firmly. She stood. "I've had enough. I'm going to bed."

* * *

 

(I Turned Him To Gold, It Took Him Higher)

Nehemia had been waiting a half hour for Archer Finn to show up and brief her on Allsbrook's EWC needs. Just as she was about to leave their meeting place, the North Tower, he scuttled in, looking tired and upset.

"Took you long enough."

" _Sorry._ "

"I have to go to a conference tomorrow, Finn, I don't have time to wait for you, no matter the apology." snapped Nehemia. 

"No, I mean..." he ran a hand through unruly hair. "I'm sorry for this morning. In DADA."

Nehemia paused, and sighed. "It doesn't matter."

"I very obviously trust you, Nehemia Ytger." said Archer Finn, meeting her eyes. "I wouldn't be doing this with you if I didn't."

"You weren't given a choice."

"Yes, I was." he said, smiled ruefully. "That's you, without the choice. Here, look. A proper apology." He waved his wand, muttering something. A red rose spiraled out into his palm, and he handed it to her, mock bowing deeply. "Princess."

She blinked as she took to rose, steeling herself. "You need to-Finn, I  _can't_ trust you properly until you tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"Who you  _are_."

And that was fear, flashing across his face. It was gone in an instant, but she knew how to recognize his masks. She had her own to deal with. "That's not possible."

Nehemia turned away, gesturing with futility. "Then what good can we possibly do?"

"Enough." he said. "We can do enough."

* * *

 (My Love Is Fire)

Saturday morning, ten o'clock sharp, there were around 180 wizards gathered in Adarlan lands for the Erilean Wizarding Conference.

The location of the conference shifted a lot, and was in a different province of Erilea every year. There were at least four representatives from each province, and many had brought more. Princess Nehemia Ytger, of Eyllwe, was the exception and the only one sitting for Eyllwe. 

Fenharrow. Terrasen. Eyllwe. Melisande. The Dead Islands. The Western Wastes. Adarlan. 

Each represented a politically influential family or school of thought with footholds not only in the British Ministry, but around the world. Together, they became Erilea, and to prevent real, possible wars over lands and territory, the EWC was set up. This way, all battle was theoretical. The provinces fought for ideas, not lands. In politics, nothing else. 

Adarlan, led by a man of the same name, was new at this sort of thing. Despite coming from an old conservative school of thought (like Melisande), Adarlan had quickly gained a lot of momentum, and six years ago, had received the lands required to join Erilea. Since then, it managed to spiral out into a far larger and more influential being than any had expected.

There were whispers. People called it the Havilliard Empire. 

And Evalin Ashryver was ready to shut all that down. 

"Are you ready?" her husband whispered to her as they walked into the conference center. "I can still do it if you don't want to."

"I'm fine." said Evalin, shooting a light smile at Rhoe. He was always a little concerned around her during the EWC. The Ashryver line was in Wendlyn, and wasn't part of Erilea. Even if she hadn't grown up with the EWC like Rhoe had, she still could handle herself. "We all decided it should be me."

"That's cause the conservatives like you, for some reason."

"It's because I'm not as inflammatory as you." she patted his cheek. "I got this."

"You got this?"

"I got this."

Rhoe took her arm. "Then let's mingle." And off they went into the fray.

* * *

"You've grown so tall, and _so_ pretty."

Nehemia smiled, light glinting off her golden earrings. "Thank you, Lady Meah, you're very kind." 

The Melisande spokeswoman nodded politely. "And your parents are here, Nehemia?"

"No, they couldn't get away. But I promise, I'm really ready for this."

The small crowd around her laughed. "I'm sure!" said Meah. "If it were anyone else, I'd be worried for Eyllwe. But dear, you're in Hogwarts right now?"

"Yes, fourth year."

"Lovely. So strange for your parents to send you so far away though, isn't Banjali closer to your home? And Banjali has a fine wizarding school."

Nehemia shrugged, still smiling, completely at ease. "Britain is basically Erilea's political center." she said. "Why wouldn't I want to be here?"

"Lovely, just lovely." Meah hooked an arm around her husband. "We should visit Eyllwe more often, right dear?"

"That would be great." said Nehemia. A flash of movement caught her eyes, and she half turned. "Oh, it looks like they're calling us to our seats. I'll speak to you later, Lady."

She gave a graceful and deep nod to the Melisande party, and departed, letting the smile drop from her lips. Her spine straightened a little. Gravity was something Nehemia was good at, always had been. She was in professional robes, in resplendent Eyllwe white. She dripped in gold, and she did not look like a fourteen year old. Archer Finn and she had worked on her speech for hours the night previous, on her delivery, her eye contact. Everything was perfect. Everything was going to go just fine.

Nehemia sat at the massive round table. A little placard in front of her said her name and her province. She looked to her right and left (The Wastes and Fenharrow), and nodded hello. And then she looked up, and her world stopped.

Archer Finn couldn't have prepared her for this. She looked into the ice blue eyes of the man directly opposite her, and suddenly she was eight again. Suddenly her family lands were aflame and everyone she loved was  _screaming_ , and all her careful, practiced points went out the window. She was going to talk about Calaculla, about the dirty, underhanded tricks which left her people practically enslaved, about-

Adarlan Havilliard.

"Well," he said in a cool voice. Nehemia shivered. "Shall we begin?"

And so they did. She shoved her horror deep inside her for his opening statements, and as each province elected representative spoke. Nehemia told herself everything was going to be okay. She had allies here. Everyone loved her, practically. Everything would be okay.

Evalin Ashryver stood, three seats down from Nehemia. "Good evening." she said in a clear voice, before launching into an impassioned speech on diversity in magic. Merlin, she was well spoken. Her poise couldn't be ignored. After Evalin, there were the three Ironteeth matriarchs from the Wastes. Clotho Blackbeak had been elected to speak. And then Nehemia.

It was strange, but she felt more calm than ever as she stood. "Hello, and good afternoon." said Nehemia, careful and controlled. "My name is Nehemia Ytger, and I will be speaking on behalf of Eyllwe."

* * *

 

"Look, I understand that you-"

"You don't understand a thing, Meah." snapped Evalin. "You can't just bar the fae from your country. Not only do they already have footholds-you live in bloody  _Ireland_ , you really think you can alienate the  _fae_?" 

"You're lineage is no concern of this council's." thundered Meah.

"Great, cause I _didn't bring it up_. There have been fae in Melisande longer than even your family. The indigenous population-"

"No, I agree with Meah." said Adarlan, looking so at ease it was maddening. "She has every right to protect her lands."

"This isn't protecting her lands-" started Evalin. 

"I side with Ashryver, here." said Lachesis Blueblood. "Staying true to the old ways is not something to be ashamed of."

"Well, here in  _civilized_ company..."

"That," snapped Clotho. "is not an insult we can take."

"Look," said Adarlan, shifting slightly. "Here's how I see it. I've got a healthy amount of respect for you Ironteeth-that work with the Crochans? That was a tidy little genocide right there. But we've given you practically all of Asia to 'stay true to the old ways'. Here in Britain, we value British,  _human_ wizards."

"Except we're not talking about Britain." said Nehemia, surprising even herself. She was supposed to just watch, not make any moves. "This council wasn't designed to just talk about Britain. Erilea is worldwide."

Adarlan stared at her with cold eyes. "Ms. Ytger, because it is your first time here, I am willing to forgive that outburst."

But she was just getting started. "And if you really want to talk humanity, sir, then please explain what on earth you're doing with Calaculla?"

There was a brief pause. Rhoe Galathynius let out a low whistle. 

"Allow me to recap." said Nehemia, controlled brimstone in her voice. "You set up a mining camp, all fine, all legal, and then you outfit it with mostly illegal immigrants, immigrants taken against their will from their home countries. And then, you pay them such a pittance that it's _very clear_ they will not survive if they leave your camp. Calaculla has cleared zero health codes, it's dangerous and awful, and oh, did I mention it's practically  _glorified slavery_? Are they not human? If your Great Britain really wants-"

"Do not," said Adarlan softly. "get a swelled head, Ytger."

"Not to mention your abductions are most from the Banjali ports. They are _my_ people."

"We allowed Eyllwe to be part of Erilea even though it is small, even though it's primitive, and Eyllwe insults us by sending you. A child. Do not get any ideas about what fuels this council-"

"What," said Nehemia, point blank. "Cause I'm not white?"

Lady Meah blanched, and she was not the only one to do so. The Ironteeth Witches smirked at each other.

"First of all," said Lee Kavill of Fenharrow. "Eyllwe's been in the EWC for at least fifteen years before Adarlan. And she is correct. For a worldwide council, we seem to spend a lot of time talking about Great Britain."

"To address the 'primitive' insult," said Nehemia. "I believe this goes back to Mrs. Ashryver's earlier point. Old magic is still magic. Yes, Banjali's in South Africa, where we have our own culture, our own magic, our own way of life. What you, sir, are doing with Calaculla not only promotes actual _slavery_ , it also promotes a kind of colonialism I cannot let seep into my people."

"Do not forget, Havilliard," said Kavill. "That my people are also slaving in your glorified labor camp. Yes, it's starting to look just a little racist to me."

Adarlan sighed, heavily. "If you people are so concerned about Calaculla, don't worry about it anymore."

"E-excuse me?" asked Nehemia.

"I shut the operation down about a month ago. It only became official yesterday, however. All my workers have left."

"Left?" her voice jumped. "Left? Left where? Did you give them passage back to Eyllwe or Fenharrow? Did you-half of them can't even speak  _English_."

He shrugged. "I don't know the logistics."

That meant no. That meant...meant that hundreds of her people had been turned out into the streets, with no way of income, no way of-

"It's winter." she whispered. "They'll freeze."

"I should hope not." said Adarlan. "After all, Great Britain doesn't exactly tolerate illegal immigrants on it's streets."

Her response died in her throat. Adarlan had just basically signed a million death sentences. And the immigration...they would be imprisoned, they would be-Nehemia slumped back against her seat.

He had won.

She did not speak for the rest of the conference.

* * *

 

(Say You'll Never Let Me Go)

Aelin woke up late on Sunday. While she had spent all of Saturday hiding from her roommates, she had decided that it was not the way to proceed with whatever ungodly reconciliation scene had to happen between them.

Honestly she may not have gotten up if she wasn't looking forward to the Daily Prophet coverage of the EWC. 

She missed it, Aelin realized as she walked down to breakfast. It was well past ten, and most everyone had their papers. She would probably receive her copy at lunch or dinner, but in the meantime could probably just mooch off Dorian's. Chaol didn't subscribe to the Prophet for some reason, but Dorian read it even more religiously than she.

But when she entered the Great Hall, and spotted the growing bruise on Dorian's cheek, Aelin knew something was very wrong. She rushed forward, taking his hand.

"What happened?"

He looked shell shocked. 

"Dorian, what happened? Who-did someone hit you?" Aelin was well and ready to go to war right that second, but Dorian shook his head rapidly.

"Don't. Don't worry about it. Just...you shouldn't be talking to me right now."

" _What?_ " She looked around, taking the the incredibly antagonistic atmosphere. Almost all eyes were on them, and they were all unfriendly. A girl was sobbing at the Ravenclaw table. Over by the Hufflepuffs, Nehemia Ytger sat, posture ramrod straight, staring at the wall with dead eyes. 

"Dorian," started Aelin, starting to feel apprehensive. She began ushering him slowly out of the Hall. "What happened yesterday?"

Dorian looked down, to the crumpled up newspaper in his hands. "My father's done a very bad thing, Aelin."

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo that was honestly super draining wow. I've been watching a lot of Scandal, and while that doesn't really appect this I love the idea of Nehemia wearing Oliva Pope levels of white. tune in next week on PLTLWM for an entirely Quidditch filled chapter!
> 
> reviews are mourning free roses


	7. Dear Desperado

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Well, that's sweet." said Aelin, standing up. She offered him a hand. "But I think you deserve to be a little selfish right now. And this'll blow over, well, you won't get crap for it. After all, there is Quidditch. Quidditch. A lot of Quidditch."
> 
> "Quidditch?"
> 
> "Also known as your saving grace, my friend."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is like two weeks late but it's also twice as long so :/  
> (35 pages on ms word!!!)  
> HISTORY LESSON:  
> yo so a lot of people messaged me w/ questions about the way I divided Erilea, specifically Asia, so lemme explain:  
> Fenharrow is basically South Asia, and a little of the Middle East. Kinda up to Turkey. (yeah that means Sorscha's Indian, fyi. i don't think i specified it before. Lee Kavill is Pakistani.)  
> The Western Wastes is a bit of a misnomer. They're called the Western Wastes cause Western Asia and some of Russia were Crochan lands, and the Ironteeth Nation (East Asia, South East Asia) swept across and conquered them, while pretty much 'wasting' the land. So the Ironteeth control all that land, Eurocentric Erilea basically refer to them as the Western Wastes.  
> (when u can subtly bemoan colonialism while writing fic)  
> The three Ironteeth Witches each have their own bits of Asia. Why, then, did I name them Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos? Cause I'm a sucker for greek mythos sorry can't retconn that now. Blackbeaks are Chinese, Bluebloods are Japanese and Korean, and Yellowlegs have some Lao background, but also kinda some Taiwanese? Think Cambodia and Myanmar and SE Asia? They're the most spread out, which is why the Blackbeaks think they're a threat.  
> Melisande are most of the Americas, but Lady Meah was originally from what is now Adarlan, aka Ireland.  
> The Dead Islands are the Caribbean, but with ties in South America, and has traditionally bad blood w/ Melisande.  
> Adarlan and Terrasen has basically divided Europe.  
> Hope that helps! I'm gonna be talking a lot about tensions between provinces later on. kisses!

**Chapter 7- Dear Desperado**

or

"What Goes Up Must Come Down"

"Ten thousand."

"Ten thousand." Dorian's voice was hollow, as was his expression. Tears threatened to fall from his eyes as he and Aelin sat with their backs to a wall on the fourth floor. The bruise on his cheek had already begun to deepen. 

Aelin grabbed his shoulder roughly. "Don't you dare cry, Dorian Havilliard. This was  _not_ your fault."

"I know that!" he cried, burying his face in his hands. "But _ten thousand_ people, Aelin. Ten thousand people dead or enslaved because my father shut down Calaculla and then basically arrested all of his workers. Ten thousand."

There was no repose to that. "Is that why Davy Richards hit you?"

He nodded. 

"Davy's an idiot."

Dorian choked out  laugh. "Thanks, A."

"Me and Chaol are gonna beat him up."

"That's not necessary."

"Um,  _yes_ it is." Aelin, at this point, was just trying to cheer him up, but the underlying reason for all of this was eating at her.

What had  _happened_ at the EWC yesterday? The coverage in the _Prophet_ wasn't that informative, and this kind of reaction from the Hogwarts populace paired with the article on the repercussions of Calaculla...

She needed to find out exactly what took place. But first, Dorian was more important. She had to help her friend. Unfortunately, the secret to helping Dorian lay in Chaol, and she had absolutely no clue where he was right now. 

"Look, I'll stick close during classes, okay? If anyone tries to give you trouble, I'll either fight them or give them a massive lecture. Okay?"

He nodded tearfully. 

"Chin up, friend, it's gonna be okay."

"Aelin, I'm not..." he took a deep breath. "I don't  _care_ if they blame me. But my father is responsible for something terrible. I just _can't_ think of all those people."

"Well, that's sweet." said Aelin, standing up. She offered him a hand. "But I think you deserve to be a little selfish right now. And this'll blow over, well, you won't get crap for it. After all, there is Quidditch. _Quidditch_. A lot of Quidditch."

"Quidditch?"

"Also known as your saving grace, my friend." She pulled him to his feet. "Come on, I'll walk you to the library, or my common room. But we got the Harpies this week, and the first match we don't hate each other for next week. No one in the school will be talking about anything else. I promise."

He was like a lamb, thought Aelin, and upon processing that thought she immediately blushed. But there was something inherently innocent about the way he stood up, eyes wide and glassy, bruise standing stark against his tan skin. But she took her role as protector very seriously, so she embraced it. Aelin linked her arm in his, and smiling, walked him to the North Tower.

* * *

 (Damage Control)

"Chaol," hissed Aelin, grabbing the boy's arm. "We gotta talk."

Chaol's gaze was fixed on Dorian, who was chatting in a semblance of normalcy with Nesryn and some other first years. Even though no one outright ostracized Dorian, the air in the common room was colder. "A, can this wait?"

"No." she rolled her eyes, tugging at his sleeve. "It'll take a second. It's fine, he'll be fine."

Reluctantly, he allowed himself to be pulled over by the staircase to the girl's dorms. "What's up?"

Aelin folded her arms, shifting her weight. "I'm guessing you heard."

Chaol frowned. "Yeah, I heard. I missed him in the Great Hall this morning, otherwise I could've stopped it. Controlled the situation."

She waved a hand. "I handled it." 

"I know. Thanks."

Aelin smiled, briefly. "Actually, what's this I heard about Davy Richards being admitted into the Hospital Wing?"

Chaol shrugged. Aelin slugged him on the shoulder, hard.

"Ow!"

"You were supposed to wait for me, you dolt!" 

"I didn't know where you were!"

"Yeah! I was running the comfort circle, which I am absolute crap at!" Aelin took a deep breath, feeling like she was on the edge of rambling. "It's  _Dorian_ , and I didn't know what to do, I'm not good at this."

"I should've been there." said Chaol, shamefaced. And he was right. As well as Aelin had done, he was the one who knew Dorian best. He was the ideal person to find Dorian distraught. And Aelin knew she was second best in that aspect.

"That's not what I'm saying." said Aelin, shaking her head. "Listen. You know what I'm good at? Hitting people. Comfort? Not so much. I just needed to do  _something_."

"We can beat Davy Richards up when he gets out of the Hospital Wing together." offered Chaol helplessly. 

Aelin grinned. "Thanks. But no, actually, we've got more work to do."

He raised an eyebrow. 

"Damage control."

"What?"

"Davy Richards isn't going to be the only person after Dorian's blood. We gotta diffuse the situation. But like. Through word of mouth."

"How exactly are we going to do that?"

"We have friends in high places!" said Aelin. It was hard, doing this as a first year. "I can talk to Nehemia. She'll know what to do."

Chaol frowned. "Is that really the best idea?"

"Why not? Nehemia loves to help."

"You didn't read the  _Prophet_ , did you?"

Aelin blinked. "No, no time."

"Nehemia was the one who brought up Calaculla to Dorian's dad. It's all in the EWC coverage. She fought for it."

Oh, no. Aelin deflated. Of course Nehemia had fought, she was the Eyllwe representative. And of course...the girl was fourteen. To be shut down like that during the EWC was crazy. 

"Yeah." said Aelin. "Um, you're right. Hey, I can call Aedion, right! And the Quidditch team loves me."

"Cause of that time you-"

"Ah." said Aelin, hastily interrupting him. "They're gonna want most attention on them this week anyway, right? It'll work. Just try to spread that it's not Dorian's fault, and he doesn't agree with his dad."

"Okay, boss." said Chaol. "I hope this works."

She smiled at him, brittle. "Me too."

* * *

 (The Worst Things In Life)

Three days later, in Charms, Aelin sat ramrod straight in her seat. Nesryn, who had quickly been converted to the Protect Dorian At All Costs Brigade (Aelin was sure Chaol had gotten to her), took the seat next to her. The table next to them had Chaol and Dorian, so Aelin boxed in Dorian and the other end. 

Using word of mouth as damage control was working, a bit. It was true Aelin couldn't do much about the upperclassmen gossip, but her patented ice cold glare manage to stop the first years and most of the second years from giggling maliciously at her friend. 

But her mind was clouded. Right now, Aelin was practically fuming, remembering the troubled conversation she had with Aedion that morning.

She had found him in the library, at a comfortable time in which breakfast was nearly over but there was plenty of time to get to their first class. He was sandwiched deeply in the Transfiguration (ugh, thought Aelin) section with homework spread out on a table. He glanced up and practically blanched at the sight of his cousin purposefully walking towards him, noticeably angry. 

"You've been avoiding me."

 It wasn't a question.

"No I haven't." said Aedion, still reading, face like a thundercloud. Aelin scoffed and sat down roughly, legs apart and head titled in the very picture of confrontation. 

"You may as well be up front about it." she said. "I suppose you've read the  _Prophet_."

"Of course I've read the bloody  _Prophet_."

"Language." she snapped. Aelin sighed, trying to run a hand through her hair before remembering the intricate braid she had spelled it into. "It's not his  _fault_ , Aedion."

"Do I look like I care?"

"He's my friend."

"His father killed over ten thousand people."

"He is not his father!"

Aedion looked at her, really looked at her. 

"You liked him." said Aelin. "You  _did_. You thought he was alright, we talked about this in the beginning of the year."

"He's a Havilliard, Aelin." said Aedion, glaring at her. "Why won't you understand that? It's in his blood to kill people, whether by law or, like his father, at wand point. I knew it wasn't safe for you to be friends with him. I knew it. I'm writing your parents. If they knew-"

"Of course they know!" said Aelin in as intimidating a whisper as she could manage. "Of course they....I've invited him to Christmas. And what, exactly, do you mean  _you're_ writing my parents? You're not my keeper, Aedion, you're not in charge of me, and you have no idea what that boy has been through. So leave it. And stop pretending you have my best interests at heart."

"You're the one with no clue. Bad blood runs strong in that line, Aelin, and if you would just admit it to yourself you'd really understand what this is like." exploded Aedion. "He's a vicious _monster_. You think Dorian Havilliard somehow skipped the terrorism gene? Are you really _that_ naive? Because one day, if you're not careful, that boy you call your friend is going to put _me_ in an early grave. And the way you're going, _you're going to let him!_ "

Aelin went white. Aedion blinked, and immediately backtracked. "A, wait, I-"

"No, you've made your pint." said Aelin, standing up. She picked up her book bag. "You've made yourself perfectly clear. I won't ask for help anymore."

"Aelin..."

"And by the way," she cut across. "I get it. I understand. Your mom died, and Adarlan killed her, and you're angry. And I get that you push that anger onto everything that moves. So I forgive you, because I'm your cousin and I really, truly, understand. But you do that in front of me- _to_ me-again, and we're going to have a problem."

So she left, because what else was there to say?

* * *

 (Stress Relief)

"Oi, Davy! Dave-hey, come on mate."

The Ravenclaw paid no heed, however, and only picked up the pace at the sight of Chaol Westfall tailing him.

"Come on, Richards, I'm not here to hit you again." said Chaol lazily, hands in his pocket. "Chill out." 

Davy Richards paused wearily, half turning. "Yeah? You're not?"

The Gryffindor grinned an easy grin. "Nothing to worry about from me."

Davy straightened up slightly, a familiar pompous look stretching across his face. "Well...well then  _screw you_ , Chaol Westfall!"

Chaol shrugged. "I said you had nothing to worry about from  _me_ , Richards." His smile grew, and he nodded somewhere behind Davy Richard's shoulder. 

Davy spun on the spot to find Aelin Galathynius grinning like a shark behind him.

"There's still  _her_."

Aelin lightly waved a hand. "Hi. My name's Aelin. It's _very_ nice to meet you." 

* * *

 

 (Princess)

Saturday arrived with little fanfare, despite Aelin literally bouncing off the walls. The poster of Florine above her head was honestly more a shrine now, with the way she kept gazing lovingly at the captain of the Harpies. 

She woke easily at seven in the morning, stretching and getting as hyped as she could without waking her roommates. Honestly, her relationship with all but Nesryn was still a little strained, and not waking them had ulterior motives. Pushing that out of her mind, Aelin dressed quickly (Harpies colors of gold and green, of course) and hurried down to breakfast. It was a little early, so neither Chaol or Dorian were there. However, she did spot another friend, one she hadn't spoken to in almost a week.

Aelin sat down in front of Nehemia, who was wrapped in a white cloak over casual robes. Her breakfast looked untouched. Her expression was guarded, blank.

"What's with the white?" asked Aelin bluntly. Nehemia looked up, and for the first time since Aelin had met her, did not immediately smile. 

She looked back down. "It's a mourning color."

"You look good in white." said Aelin. "It's an Eyllwe color, right?"

"Yes."

Aelin sighed. "It's been a week, Nehemia."

Her friend looked up, true flint in her eyes. Aelin blinked back, surprised. Nehemia looked...positively antagonistic. "Listen, Aelin, I really can't talk right now. You should be at the Gryffindor table."

"Why not?"

"Because if I talk to you, I'll snap at you. And I can't have that right now."

Aelin looked at her hands. "Fine. We won't talk about what happened." she dragged a plate of toast over to her plate. Nehemia sighed.

"Aelin."

"But we can't just  _not talk_ , Nehemia. Mates don't do that."

The fourth year relented. "What do you want to talk about?"

Aelin groaned loudly. "Well I've got a Transfig exam in like. Two weeks. I'm dead."

"You'll be fine, Aelin."

"No, you're right, we can talk about gross things like Transfiguration later." said Aelin nodding, heavily buttering her toast. "Oh! I'm going to see the Harpies today, with Chaol and-some friends!"

Nehemia looked at her knowingly. Aelin winced inwardly, knowing that covering Dorian's name just wasn't classy. "My, uh, dad's picking us up any moment." she continued. "See? I'm wearing Harpies colors." 

The fourth year's mask slipped, just a little. "You look very fetching, Aelin. Did you-um, did you say your father was picking you up?"

That was the first time Aelin had heard Nehemia use a vocal pause. "Yup."

"Oh." said Nehemia, her voice a little high pitched. "Well, that's lovely, really, I hope you have tons of fun. But um, I'm just going to finish breakfast somewhere else, alright? I'll just-actually, why don't I just come back in a few hours? It's ever so early, and the library is really best this time of day...I really should go. I'm just going to-"

"Ah." said Aelin. "Uh-uh. Sit down. We're eating together. Like  _mates_."

"Oh, Aelin, but I should really-"

"No. Stay."

"I-"

"Are you avoiding my dad?"

"No!" said Nehemia. "Not at all!"

"Nehemia."

" _Aelin_."

At that point, Chaol and Dorian emerged into the hall. After a quick search, the Gryffindor located Aelin and nodded, satisfied, before pulling his friend towards Aelin and Nehemia. As they got close, Dorian spotted Nehemia and went white as a sheet. 

"Oh." he said. "I should go-"

Chaol didn't let go of his sleeve though, instead looking to Aelin for clarification. She shrugged. 

"No." said Nehemia, surprising everyone. "Sit. It's fine."

All three first years stared at her in shock. The Eyllwe rolled her eyes. "Sit. Eat. It's getting late."

Slowly, Dorian lowered himself next to Aelin. Chaol followed suit. "I-"

"I'm sorry." said Nehemia curtly. "I've been subconsciously blaming you, I think. You just...look like your father. But not in the ways that count."

Dorian's eyes were going very wide.

"And I'm sorry I didn't do anything about these rumors." said Nehemia. "I should have. I've been really foolish this week. So I'm sorry."

Aelin looked at her friend and groaned, cause  _grea_ _t_ , Dorian was crying again. 

"I'm s-so sorry." he whispered, tears streaming from his eyes. "I'm so-"

"You take no responsibility for this." said Nehemia. "There are people out there who are going to pay for your father's decision.  _They_ can take responsibility. But not you."

Dorian furiously wiped away tears. "Okay. Okay. Understood."

She nodded.

"And-and I'm with you." he continued. "Really with you. I know what they call you in Eyllwe. And I...even if my father..."

"You are a child and do not know what you're talking about." said Nehemia quickly, her voice smooth stone. Aelin was looking interested. "I am nothing but an Eyllwe representative. Stick your neck out, Dorian Havilliard, even in front of your own father, and you'll get it cut off."

"But I-"

"Enough." said Nehemia. "Pass the marmalade." 

Chaol wordlessly handed her the butter dish instead. Nehemia threw him a look. "And what's this I hear about a Holyhead Harpies match?"

Aelin brightened visibly. "Yeah! We're going! Today. Like right now."

"Florine's one of my favorite British players." said Nehemia. 

"She's my all time favorite."

Chaol rolled his eyes. "Yeah, but guys, Puddlemere's playing."

Dorian rolled his eyes, seemingly recovered. "Give it a rest Westfall."

" _Guys!_ "

"Chill, Chaol." said Aelin, grinning. "We all know who's gonna win."

"We do  _not_ _!_ " 

"No, Chaol's right." allowed Nehemia. "It's always a toss up with Quidditch."

"Oh, come on, Nehemia." 

"Right! You know who's captain this year? Robards. You think Robards is gonna let Florine beat him? She's half his size!"

"She's a Seeker, Chaol. That's what she's supposed to look like." snapped Aelin. "Don't be sexist."

Chaol nodded, conceding the point. "That's not what I meant."

"Also," Dorian added. "Florine is actually terrifying."

They all nodded at that. Aelin finished her toast. "It'll be a good game." she said.

"I'll listen to the wireless coverage." offered Nehemia.

"Oh, I wish-"

"Aelin?"

She turned to find her father, looking sheepish in a black traveling cloak a few feet away. "Dad!" 

"Sitting at the wrong table, Aelin Galathynius, you've completely ruined my reminiscence. I hardly spent any time at the Hufflepuff table when I was here. Couldn't you have at least sat at  _Ravenclaw_?"

Aelin cut off her father's rambling by hugging him round the middle. It had been a long couple of weeks. "Ready to go?"

"Yes, if I stay any longer your Headmistress is going to kick me out herself. Are your friends ready?"

She looked round. "Dorian? Chaol?"

"Present." said Chaol, an arm around Dorian's shoulder.

But Rhoe's eyes had fallen on the Hufflepuff girl still sitting, eyes on her bagel. "Ms. Ytger. It's good to see you again."

Nehemia looked up, her eyes wide and ashamed. "I-it's very good to see you again, sir."

"My wife wanted to commend you on your opening address last weekend."

"Thank you very much."

Rhoe paused, cocking his head slightly. "Ms. Ytger, if you...if you are in any way relating Adarlan's decision with Calaculla with your own performance at the EWC, you should know that you are very sorely mistaken."

Aelin smiled privately, hidden behind her father. 

Nehemia smiled ruefully. "That's very kind, Mr. Galathynius, but I was out of line. I shouldn't have spoken out of turn." 

"But you were right." shrugged Rhoe. "And you got Kavill on your side almost immediately, and he's-"

"-notoriously on the fence about  _everything_." completed Nehemia.

Rhoe grinned. "You know, Ms. Ytger, I'd likke nothing more than to continue a scathing conversation about the Erilean reps, but I've really got to get to this game. My wife and I would love to talk to you sometime, though. We can answer some of your questions, it's probably not easy having no one to follow during these conferences. May we owl you?"

"I-" Nehemia looked star struck. "Of course. Yes. Thank you."

He nodded, smile widening. "Great. I look forward to speaking with you. Aelin, hon?"

"We're here." said Aelin, gesturing to Chaol and Dorian. "Are we off?"

"We're off." said Rhoe, sweeping away. 

Before they left the hall, Aelin turned and gave Nehemia a tiny thumbs up where she still stood, thunderstruck. 

* * *

 (Acier and Robards)

 Their seats weren't top box, but Aelin didn't exactly expect them to be. What stung a little though, she thought as their party ascended the steps of the Bodmin Moor Quidditch Stadium, was that _Elide_ could probably get top box seats. With Uncle Cal situated in the Department of Magical Games and Sports, that was. But Elide probably didn't care about Quidditch, at least Aelin never remembered her flying with her and Aedion when they were children. She also hadn't paid much attention to their flying lesson, cause she was so focused on Manon.

Ugh, that was another thought. What if Elide started taking advantage of her dad's job  _just_ for bloody Manon Blackbeak? Aelin cringed visibly. 

Chaol snorted. "What exactly do you have on the brain?"

"Bad thoughts, dear." said Aelin. "Bad, awful thoughts."

"We're here." declared Rhoe, squinting at their tickets. Obediently, the children shuffled into their seats, with Aelin next to her dad and Dorian on her other side. He had strategically chosen this spot so he could separate her and Chaol if things got ugly. 

While Aelin was proudly in Harpy colors, Chaol was wearing Puddlemere navy. Both Dorian and Rhoe were in completely neutral colors. As they all got settled, Aelin asked her father for her old pair of Ominoculars.

"Alright," he said, frowning. "But you know you can't watch a game through these, Ace, you have to be in the moment."

"I know, I just like the instant replay." said Aelin. 

"Fine." he said, taking them from his robes pocket and handing it to his daughter. "Share with your friends. Oh, here, watch this." he pulled out his wand and said an incantation, painting gold and green stripes down her face. "Mr. Westfall, I'd do you as well, but my daughter would kill me."

Chaol proudly fluffed up his Puddlemere scarf. "No problem. I'm just fine."

"And, ah, Mr. Havilliard?"

There was totally tension there, Aelin thought. It made sense, and her father had been incredibly civil to Dorian, but there was hesitation. And the same flint that had been in Aedion's eyes. Dorian flinched a little.

"That's alright." he said. "I'm not really a die hard fan, though I do err on the side of Aelin, this time around."

Aelin beamed.

"But if you catch me at a Ballycastle Bats or a Pride of Portree game, I'd be much less civil." said Dorian, with a grin at Aelin.

"The  _Bats_ , Dorian? They're so mainstream!"

"Number one in the league since 1999-"

"Oi, Puddlemere was number two that year."

"Hush, Chaol. Portree's alright, I supposed, but the Magpies and the Arrows both are much better-"

"The whole Appleby Arrows  _only_ flying Sliver Arrow brooms thing got old fast, A. They're practically out flown before they even kick off."

"What about the Falcons?"

"Falmouth Falcons, Chaol, really? They've been last in the league for years."

"Aelin's right. If the Wigtown Wanderers are better ranked, that's when you know-"

"I rather like the Cannons." said Rhoe mildly.

All three children stared at Aelin's father for a moment. "Dad." said Aelin. "You're embarrassing me."

"Deal with it."

Aelin opened her mouth, but all of a sudden, the commentator's voice soared through the stadium. Aelin smacked Dorian on the arm. "It's starting!"

And it was. Florine, the fearless twenty-something year old captain of the Holyhead Harpies was strolling across the field, idly twirling her beater's bat. 

"If looks could kill," said Chaol, eyes wide. The Puddlemere captian, Jim Robards, was also making his way towards her. The crowd was deafening. 

Aelin was grinning. Florine Acier was probably the greatest Quidditch player of her time, and yet it wasn't her full time job. In the off season, she managed a dance company that sent out the best ballet dancers to companies all over the world. Half the girls on the Harpies had been hand picked and trained by Florine herself, from the company. She never smiled, apparently, and was supposed to be hell to work with. A senseless perfectionist. Aelin's favorite person. 

Robards and Florine met, center field. They shook hands. Florine's impeccable jawline was like stone, her elaborate hairstyle (functional yet classy, according to her  _Witch Weekly_ interview) was an incredible contrast to Robards's unkempt beard.

"Good luck." her cold voice rang out over the pitch, undoubtedly enhanced by a  _Sonorus_.

 "You too." he replied, equally antagonistic. They both turned over their shoulders and walked back into the changing rooms. 

The announcer chuckled into his wand before starting. "Well, and there you have it. The traditional bad blood between Puddlemere and the Harpies. Though, I've heard it's more bad blood between Florine and Robards themselves, thank you very much Puddlemere marketing team for  _that_ little tidbit. Anyhow, we're gearin' up for a big one, folks. Introducing, for the first time in Bodmin Moor, the Holyhead Harpies! Chase! Delacour! Adams! Acier! Adams! Carren! Aaaaaaand, Talwar!"

The Harpies flew out one by one, each grinning fiercely in robes of poison green. Like half of them were personal heroes to Aelin, from the Adams sisters (Trix and Donna Adams; aka the best Chaser duo the league has ever seen, made more dangerous by Lin Delacour, their third partner) to surprisingly tall Parvati Talwar (Seeker, youngest member on the team at eighteen years old; the reason Nesryn started flying in general). And of course, Beating duo Florine Acier and seven foot tall, terrifying and very muscled Sarah Chase proved a very capable pair. At least, visually, they were as different as could be. Bringing up the rear was the unfortunately named Keeper Karen Carren, a short young woman with her hair in tight cornrows to keep it out of the way.

The Harpies did a lap around the pitch, and Aelin swore Parvati Talwar looked  _right at her_. And _winked_. The flyers settled in a semi circle, with Florine slightly ahead of the rest. The crowd's attention shifted to the other changing room.

"Now, from Puddlemere United, welcome Smith! Price! Stirling! Martin! Blake! Robards! Aaaaand, Weaver!"

Puddlemere streaked out in their navy and gold. 

"We've got a very tough ensemble here," said the commentator. "Pay special attention to the  _ladies_ of Puddlemere, Beaters Jessica Stirling and Miranda Blake. Any speculation of the two being added because of Captain Florine Acier's biting remarks last June-you know? The one that accused Robards of sexism? Well, any thought of that was shot down after Puddlemere's last match with the Wigtown Wanderers, which resulted in  _five_ Bludger related injuries. Nope, these girls have earned it. They've got their work cut out for them, though, if the look on said Captain Acier has anything to say about it! Both Acier and Chase look ready to kill if necessary. Of course, Puddlemere's real strength is their offensive Chasing team, aka Robards, Martin, and Smith.

"Looks like our ref, the esteemable Harriet Jones, is ready. She flies up, holding the Quaffle, and I assume she's barking for a nice, clean match. You're wasting your breath, Jones! Especially with these teams. She seems satisfied, though, and ah! The Quaffle is up in the air!"

A powerful fight for possession took place, but one of the Harpies Chasers swiped it out of the air.

"Delacour is in possession! Now the Puddlemere Chasers are already in defensive positions-ah, passes to Adams, who passes to the other Adams, who sends it straight back to Delacour. They're running a difficult maneuver, the Harpies are, very zig zag. Very easy to miss. Delacour's past midfield now, drops the Quaffle down to Trix Adams, who's fast approaching the goals-damn, a well placed Bludger from Stirling has her rolling right into Robards's defense! Well done, Jess Stirling. Robards in possession, passes to Smith, passes back to Robards to avoid the fast approaching Harpies Chasers, but it looks like the Harpies have expected that. Intercept by Adams, and they've reversed the flow of the game, heading back to midfield, she drops to Delacour, who makes it past the Chasers and is fast approaching Keeper Martin Price-he looks ready, solid. Delacour veers up, looks like she's trying for her trademark shot, thrown a little higher than the generally accepted Quaffle throw. Robards closes in, blocks her way, and Delacour tosses the Quaffle over her shoulder to where Donna Adams is waiting, she catches it and pulls back all the way to midfield, thoroughly confusing the Puddlemere defense. Florine Acier is barking something to her, and Adams looks ready for...something. Ah, too late, Chaser Martin swipes the Quaffle straight out of Adams's hands, flying up and away from-ouch!"

Aelin and Dorian yelled and punched the air at the sight of the dropped Quaffle. At this point all three first years were standing on their seats.

"Beater Sarah Chase seems to have been waiting for that, her Bludger hits Martin in the square of the back. He drops the Quaffle and Donna Adams reclaims it. He seems okay, just shaking it off with a lap around the pitch. The Harpies pull back again, ready to run another play. Donna drops the Quaffle down to Delacour, who's actually grinning. She flies to midfield and...and she's pulling back her arm to shoot? There's no way she can make it from there! Delacour shoots! I can see the veins in Robards's forehead, blimey. Oh dear, looks like the Harpies are running a modified Hawkshead Formation, with Beaters Acier and Chase flying actually alongside the Quaffle as it arcs towards the goals. Keeper Price looks  _pissed_ at the very telegraphed shot, though. The Harpies  Beaters are keeping the Puddlemere Chasers from getting to the Quaffle. It's almost in the Keeper's box, now! Lengthy shot. It's heading towards the leftmost hoop, Keeper Smith dives-woah!"

Her jaw dropped, and Aelin grabbed at her Ominoculars to replay the moment. Through the lens she saw Florine's fierce grin as she, at the very last second,  _cracked_ her bat on the Quaffle, sending it shooting downwards to a waiting Donna Adams. The Puddlemere Keeper seemed to realize what was happening as his hands closed on empty air. Donna gave a yell as she pitched the Quaffle up from her spot into the middle hoop.

"Goodness! The Holyhead Harpies score! What an absolutely insane play, Acier's really brought it all out in preparation for this game. Robards doesn't look happy, and Price is downright fuming! It's ten-nil, for the Harpies, and Price chucks the Quaffle straight to Smith. Smith in possession, passes to Robards..."

The game intensified by a hundred percent, and though the Harpies started scoring regularly, Puddlemere wasn't going out without a fight. Literally, it seemed, cause the match was getting dirtier and dirtier by the second. The Chasers were all working overtime, getting to the point where the commentator couldn't even get their names out before possession changed. He reduced for just yelling out their last names, without the proper descriptions.

"Robards! Smith! Martin! Robards! Ah, intercept! Adams! Delacour! Adams! Adams! Delacour! Up to the goal box-DELACOUR SCORES! Fifty-thirty, Harpies! Back to Robards! Martin! Robards! Bludger from Acier! Robards drops-Adams fumbles, Robards reclaims, shoots. Carren dives, fumbles, he scores! Fifty-forty, Harpies-"

At one point, Robards nearly collided with Florine, all elbows, and she didn't know what to do except bash him on the head with her Beater's bat. Both fouls, but considering both offenses, Ref Jones let both slide as opposed to giving out two penalties. Florine retaliated by shooting every Bludger she got back at Robards regardless of who had the Quaffle at the time. Donna Adams flew up quickly and whispered something to her captain, though, that had Florine return her attentions to the game.

At the two hour mark, Robards called a time out, presumably cause the blood from the wound Florine had given him with her bat was getting in his eyes. The Harpies also took the time to patch themselves up. Trix Adams had a wonky shoulder, but on her less dominant hand so she could still shoot accurately. Florine's nose was bleeding profusely, probably from a Stirling-induced Bludger. Parvati Talwar had a black eye, and no memory of receiving it. She had only seen the Snitch twice, and both times Sitrling and Blake had stopped her from getting at it.

"At this point," said the commentator, much less excited than he had been before the match. "I'm wondering if we've got two  _blind_ Seekers. At least fight for a bloody Snitch sighting, blimey. Looking at you, Talwar, and you, Weaver." 

Aelin saw Florine gaze directly at the commentator's box and calmly flip him the bird. She giggled, while her father sighed. "I'd have thought a young lady like Ms. Acier would have more class." he said.

"Talwar's supposed to be her prodigy." said Aelin. "Makes sense that she's protective."

"Alright, Ref's calling for an end to this lovely time out." said the commentator, sour. "We're back in the air, Quaffle's up, Harpies in possession-"

"Talwar's like eighteen." said Chaol. "I mean. They really shouldn't have her play if this game is so important. That she could outfly  _Weaver_ -"

Aelin blinked, and slowly shifted her focus from the game to Chaol's face. Dorian laughed nervously. "Excuse me?"

"Haha." said Dorian weakly. "Just a joke, ha-"

"I mean it! I had this conversation with Nesryn and she got so sore about it."

"Well,  _yeah_ ," said Aelin. "Parvati Talwar's one of ours. Gyffindor graduate, last year! And already playing in the big matches! Weaver hasn't seen the Snitch either."

"Well-"

"Also, you talked about this with  _Nesryn_ and she didn't kill you? Talwar is Nesryn's...she's her role model!" 

"I said she got sore 'bout it."

"Chaol, sometimes your lack of tact amazes me." groaned Aelin. He opened his mouth, but she waved him off. "Hush. Only Quidditch now."

"ROBARDS SCORES!" yells the commentator. "Hundred twenty to a hundred, for Puddlemere.  _Really_ starting to hate these Seekers."

"Shove  _off_!" yelled Donna Adams as she flew past the commentator's booth.

"Rather weak of a commentator, yeah?" said Rhoe. "Some of these matches go on for days, and he's antsy over a couple hours."

Florine was trying to keep her Bludgers off her Chasers, but it was work for her. She batted furiously, and so did Sarah Chase, but Stirling seemed completely in sync with Robards and his Chasers, making it real hard for the Harpies. All of a sudden, a hush went through the crowd-Paravati Talwar was flying at dangerous speeds towards the Puddlemere goals.

Weaver got with the program and started following her, catching up so quickly he was almost able to grab the tail of her broom. Talwar's hand was outstretched, and her teeth were gritted. Her braid streamed out behind her. Blake shot a Bludger at her, but a Talwar evaded it with a Sloth-Grip roll and continued the chase without missing a beat. Jess Stirling followed that Bludger up with another, and Talwars bobbed slightly down so it only skimmed the end of her long braid, ripping the elastic out of it. Her dark hair flowed and unraveled easily, she was going so fast, but it didn't deter her.

Weaver was practically at her shoulders now, his much longer arms compensating for the distance. Talwar was practically flat against her broom, tears from the wind streaming down her face. She strained a little more, stretched a little more....

Florine Acier screamed, loudly, from somewhere below the Seekers and, considering that both team's attention was fixed on the Seekers, did something so quickly Aelin was glad for her instant reply. The Beater hooked a foot around her broom and swung completely upside down, anchored to her broom only by that foot. An incredible dramatic Sloth Grip Roll. With both hands free and gripping her bat, Florine brought it down so hard on a Bludger that the black ball shot like a bullet from a gun, a hex from a wand, towards the Seekers. She swung back up to sit onto her broom, watching the Bludger fly by. 

By some sort of miracle, it caught the tail end of Weaver's broom, but sent him careening into Talwar. The female Seeker yelled in shocked, braced a foot on her broom as Weaver moved it out from under her, and  _lunged_ for the Snitch. 

By some sort of miracle, her small hands grasped it's golden wings tightly. Talwar gasped, then seemed to realize most of her broom wasn't under her anymore. She pulled back, and with her free hand grabbed at her broomstick quickly, so that she was hanging from it, other hand outstretched to display the caught Snitch.

The green half of the crowd was on their feet, yelling and stomping and generally losing it, Aelin included. 

"TALWAR CATCHES THE SNITCH-HOLYHEAD HARPIES WIN, THREE HUNDRED FIFTY TO A HUNDRED TWENTY!" yelled the commentator.

Florine flew by and helped Talwar back onto her broom so the Harpies could take their victory laps. Aelin was practically starstruck in her seat, grinning like a loon. Dorian patted her arm.

"Feels good, yeah?"

"Definitely." she said.

"It was a good game." allowed Chaol, but to his credit, he didn't look too beat up by Puddlemere's loss. Aelin grinned at him, sparing him any gloating.

The walk back was a blur. Aelin managed to coerce her father into buying her a Parvati Talwar poster ("For Nesyn," she pleaded. "I didn't get her anything for Christmas." This was a complete lie. Nesryn already had like three Parvati Talwar posters.) as well as a Harpies jersey. Rhoe offered to buy stuff for the boys, but they declined. 

"I'm drowning in Puddlemere merch already." said Chaol. Aelin and Dorian pretended they didn't see him quietly buying an Adams sisters postcard. 

Finally, Rhoe Apparated them back to Hogsmeade and walked them up to the gates of Hogwarts. He hugged his daughter. "Be safe, Ace."

"When am I not?"

He smiled at her fondly, before turning to the boys. "Good seeing you again, Mr. Westfall. I'm sorry for your loss today."

Chaol grinned. "Win some, lose some."

Rhoe turned to Dorian. "Mr. Havilliard...if you..." he sighed. "You seem a decent kid. You're welcome to stay with us during any of the hols, understand?"

Dorian nodded, not meeting his eyes. "Thank you, Mr. Galathynius."

"Then I'll be off." with a final kiss on Aelin's cheek, he turned on the spot and vanished.

* * *

 (Ice Melts With A Warm Draft)

It was embarrassing, thought Manon. Really embarrassing. She was first string on the Slytherin Quidditch team, and she really couldn't get down this play?

The Slytherin was sitting on the stone floor of the fifth floor, studying a notebook with all the new plays. It was simple, she told herself. Easy. She would get it in a snap.

To be fair, there was a modicum of pressure getting at her. Three days until her big game, and she was still memorizing her plays. Utterly, utterly ridiculous. 

Her hair was twisted into a sleek bun on top of her head, and it was as unkempt as she got. It just felt wrong to not be floating around her shoulders, but hey. She needed to focus. But there were other matters in the back of her mind. 

Her grandmother sent her a new broomstick yesterday.

Her grandmother sent her a new broomstick with no visible note. That does not mean there was not a message implied, or received. Manon got it loud and clear.

_"Don't mess up."_

Damn, her new play. Her new play. Manon squinted at the notebook, quietly doing the breathing exercises Lin's mum had taught her in secret. Inhale. Think of Hogwarts. Think of Mahoutokoro. Exhale. Think of Hogwarts. Inhale. Think of home, of her clear blue skies (but they weren't blue. They were pink and green and burnt gold tinged with streaks robins egg blue.) and the fields that stretched out for miles. Exhale. 

Manon opened her eyes, feeling her mind settle. She looked at her notebook.

Well, shit, that backfired actually, cause now all Manon could think of was Mahoutokoro, the Wizarding school she was  _supposed_ to go to. When her grandmother had barred her from attending when she had turned seven, she hadn't worried or questioned. After all, the real boarding school began when she would turn eleven. She had been looking forward to the rigorous Quidditch training for  _years_. Though, Manon thought, she wouldn't be able to get away with forgetting plays at Mahoutokoro. 

It was a palace, in jade and shrouded in the beauty of Minami Iwo Jima. A  _true_ palace, not this stone and torchlight fare. It was where she belonged, and yes, her Japanese was middling at best, but she would get better. 

But, it fell into Blueblood territory. Therein lay the tragedy. It didn't matter if her grandmother had been educated there. What mattered was that she would never send gold eyed Manon into enemy territory.

"Adarlan is our enemy," she had argued in Cantonese. 

But Clotho had given her an absolutely terrifying look, and Manon remembered why she never talked back. Why she had to show respect. After all, what had happened to Lin's mum still stuck in her mind. "Speak in English." was the only thing the matriarch of the Blackbeaks said.

So now she had to not mess up during this game. If she became Wing Leader in fifth year, when she turned sixteen, there was a chance her grandmother would send her to Mahoutokoro. That wasn't a chance she would miss for anything.

She returned her gaze to the notebook, but what concentration she had gained was short-lived.

"Blackbeak?"

Manon swore, loudly. The boy in front of her looked startled. "You swore!"

"Yeah." said Manon, looking up. "Deal."

"Oh, I mean, I'm not _against_ swearing, but we're both first years, and it's a bit strange...I mean in any professors heard you using that language then-"

"I'm sorry, do you have a point to being here?" asked Manon. "Who even are you?"

"We're in like eight classes together." said the boy, offended. Manon took a closer look, and found she did recognize him.

"Oi, England's favorite genocidal son."

Dorian blanched. "What?"

Manon smiled cruelly. "Has no one spoken like this to you yet? Your father killed hundreds of people."

The Ravenclaw looked miserable. "I've been kinda sheltered lately. I've got good mates."

"Yeah, sure." said Manon, looking at him appraisingly. "Sit down, Havilliard."

He looked surprised and wary, but slid to sit across from her, his back to the opposite corridor wall. "Why?"

"Well, you're not the only genocidal child running round here." said Manon, pointing to herself.

"Right." said Dorian. "You're Ironteeth. The Crochans..."

Manon bared said teeth, even if they weren't steel.

"How do you bear it?" he asked it.

"Easy." said Manon. "I don't bear anything. It's not a load on my back, or conscience, or anything like that. And if anyone gives me shit about it...they don't actually. I'm way too scary." Dorian winced at the swear again, and Manon laughed. "You really  _are_ sheltered, kid."

"I can't do that." said Dorian. "It is on my conscience."

"Let me give you some advice, Havilliard." said Manon, leaning forward. "Don't fight it."

"What?"

"If they look at you like you're a monster, just give in. Be one." she shrugged. "If you become your father, that little conscience problem will clear right up."

Dorian was silent for some time. 

"You can't please everyone."

"But I want to." he said. "My dad...he's powerful. If I had that power, I could do things. Real things, good things."

"Non-genocidal things?" asked Manon.

"Yeah!" said Dorian. "I-this is going to sound really strange, but you really reminded me of Aelin just then."

Manon scowled. "I'm nothing like her. I assumed she's the one protecting you?"

"Pretty much." said Dorian, shrugging. 

"That's just like her." said Manon, rolling her eyes. "All for the bloody 'greater good', but not even true greater good. She only does things for herself or her friends. It's a  _wonder_ she's not in Slytherin."

"Sounding kind of self incriminating there." said Dorian, smiling.

"Oh, no. I don't have her holier than thou attitude. If we really are so similar, she shouldn't be pretending she's some light paragon."

"She doesn't, though." said Dorian. "Aelin's a hundred percent ready to get her hands dirty if she has to. But she's got that conscience problem too."

"Seems like all your problems stem from that pesky conscience." said Manon, leaning back. "Whatever. I have to get back to this."

She picked up her notebook. Dorian squinted at it. "What's that?"

"Nothing."

"Are those Quidditch plays?"

Manon didn't respond.

"They are! I forgot you're playing in this week's game. Oi, no I didn't, A wouldn't shut up about it."

She looked up. "Galathynius talks about me?"

"Like, uh,  _all the time_. 'Oh,  _Manon_ is on the team, so  _I_ need to get on ours'. ' _Blackbeak's_ got a hundred percent in Potions this week, so Dorian,  _you_ have to help me study'. "

Manon tried to hide a smile. "Good."

"From what I hear, Blackbeak, you're not much better." Dorian stood and crossed to her side of the corridor. "Let me see those plays. I can help."

Manon snapped the notebook shut. "No! You  _are_ the enemy. You're going to go running to your precious Aelin and she'll tell her giant of a cousin-"

"Actually, she and Aedion aren't speaking right now." said Dorian. "No one will tell me why."

"Whatever, like I care." said Manon. Strange, though. Those two were thick as thieves. "You're not getting a look at this."

"Fine, fine." said Dorian, hands up in a placating gesture. "Though I did see the Harpies play this weekend."

Manon went still. "You  _what?_ "

"I saw the Harpies/Puddlemere game."

Her eyes were wide. "You  _saw_ the Adams sisters? And Lin Delacour, and that Parvati Talwar?"

"Yeah!" Dorian launched into a description of Talwar catching the Snitch. "It was amazing. She had so much balance, so much control over her broom-"

Manon flipped her notebook open. "Tell me slower. What  _exactly_ did Talwar do?"

"When?"

"The entire game."

"Well, Aelin has an Ominocular recording-"

"Yeah, but there's no way I'm asking her." scoffed Manon, still poised to write. "Go on, tell me. Everything you remember."

Still a little doubtful, Dorian recounted everything he remembered the Seeker doing that game. When he finished, Manon was smiling rather scarily. " _Excellent_. I listened to the wireless coverage, but this detail is exactly what I needed."

Manon stood, still smiling broadly. She tucked the notebook into her bag. She felt good...actually good. Prepared for the match. Absolutely itching to get to practice and try some of those Sloth-Grip rolls. "Thanks, Havilliard. I'm off."

"Okay." said Dorian, a little bemused. "Oi, Manon."

"What?"

"I like your hair like that." said Dorian cheekily. 

Manon laughed. "Like I  _care_."

* * *

 (Kick Ass, Kathy)

Kathy Davies was a very pretty girl. She was a sixth year, very short, Asian, and she also had a competitive streak that went on for miles.

It was for the last reason, really, that she was selected as Gryffindor Quidditch team captain. The other reason was that she was a phenomenal Keeper. 

The Gryffindor first string team for the game went as follows: Davies (of course), Lyria Fioriture, Nesryn Faliq, Cain Thugle, Kasida Forul, Sol Ravi, and Ress. Ress had a last name, but no one ever used it. He was just Ress, the Beater. Kathy had only just finished the lineup, and the game was in about an hour.

Their normal Seeker had gotten unfathomably sick, so they had to pull Nesryn. This, of course, meant that both Seekers were going to be first years, and Kathy wasn't really sure how she felt about it. Their Seeker had been a seventh year, and she expected to pull one over on Blackbeak with sheer experience.

It didn't matter. Their Chasing team was going to bear the brunt of the work, that's how they planned it. Kasida, Sol, and Cain were practically forces of nature. While no one really liked Cain, he seemed to have a telepathic connection to Kasida in particular, and the two of them could pull off passes like magic. Like Accio. Maybe it was just Kasida though, because her and Sol were also incredibly in touch. 

"We're both from Suria," the dark skinned Chaser would grin in relation to her partner. "We think the same."

But the Chasers would have to work doubly hard to compensate for a very young Seeker. It was practically impossible in Hogwarts, but conventions be damned. They were going to have to get two hundred points up before catching the Snitch to stay in the running for the cup, considering the loss to Ravenclaw in November.

Kathy Davies strode purposefully into the Gryffindor changing room. "Time to get serious, ladies!" she bellowed.

Lyria Fioriture, the graceful second year Beater, clucked her tongue. "That's really not that feminist of you, Kathy."

"Lecture later, Fioriture." said Kathy. "Square up!"

The team huddled around, including reserves. Aedion looked particularly upset he wasn't playing. Kathy fixed him with a glare until he properly fixed his expression into something solemn and suitable. 

"We're gonna kick ass." thundered Kathy. "And if we don't, I'm gonna kick _your_ ass."

Ress grinned. "Excellent one liner, Cap."

"Shut the fuck up, Ress." Kathy glanced at the second and first years. "Fuck. I mean- _frick_."

"It's okay, Kathy." said Nesryn.

"Don't go placating me before a match, Flaiq, you better be thinking of a Snitch and _nothing else_."

"Okay, Cap."

"Remember your plays." said Kathy, still looking like she's like to murder someone. " _Kick ass_."

"Yes, boss."

"Of course, Kathy."

"Chasers, you better be on top of your game."

All three Chasers nodded in unison. 

"Nesryn, catch the damn snitch."

"No prob."

"Lyria, Ress, if I have to roll away from a  _single Bludger_ I will beat your ass with your own bats."

Lyria saluted. Ress offered a thumbs up.

"Reserves, be ready to, you know-"

"Kick ass?" offered Aedion.

Kathy glared at him. "Don't interrupt me. But yes. Kick ass."

"Yes, Captain." chorused the Gryffindor team. 

Kathy Davies sighed, getting herself into game mode. "Okay. Break!"

They broke, and all went into their respective corners to also get into game mode. Finally, the yells of the crowd got louder and louder, and Kathy wordlessly motioned for the first string to follow her. They all walked out onto the green, green pitch. It was cold. The Slytherin team was already lined up. Quickly, before they got to the center of the pitch, Kathy touched Lyria's arm. "If you wave to your fucking boyfriend I swear to fuck, Lyria."

"Not my boyfriend." said the second year. "Don't worry. Our relationship is very competitive." 

The Slytherin team was as follows: Captain Roland Auslese, his brother Gavin, Rowan Whitethorn, Benzo Doneval, Kellan Oppel, Archer Finn, and of course, Manon Blackbeak.

Kathy strode forward to shake hands with Roland. 

"Good luck." he said, trying to break her hand.

"Fuck you, Auslese." said Kathy. She may have actually broken his hand from the look he gave her.

"Language, Davies." said Master Brullo, looking pained. He was reffing. "Okay, go on, clean game, you both know the rules."

Kathy laughed at the whole 'clean game' thing. Brullo looked even more constipated. 

"Kick off on my mark." he said. The teams mounted up.

Brullo sighed, pushed off into the air, and blew his whistle really loudly. They were off

* * *

 

(The Aftermath)

" _What the fuck_."

"Please calm down, Kathy."

"I'm going to kill someone. I don't know who. But I'm going to do it."

"I know, Cap,  but please-"

 _"_ What the _fuck!"_

Nesryn sat on the bench, shamefaced. Kathy was still yelling. 

"A fucking  _tie?_ "

"Kath-"

"You know how long it's been since a Hogwarts game tied? Sixty years. Sixty friggin years."

"I'm sorry." said Nesryn. "I should've caught the Snitch."

Kathy melted on the spot, a rare enough occasion. "Nah, Faliq, not your fault. Actually..." she sighed really loudly. The team perked up. That normally meant she was proud of them. "Actually, it's kinda amazing we tied considering Blackbeak caught the snitch. It means we scored twenty seven times, and our defensive Beaters only let in three goals. So, good job. I guess."

"Kathy," said Ress. "You were the one who didn't let any goals pass you."

"Yeah, but our defensive block was tight."

"We did good?" asked Lyria. 

Kathy sighed again. The team grinned. "Yeah I guess we did good. But we're going to practice so damn hard for this rematch, you won't know what hit you. Now come on, there's some kind of party in the Common Room."

"But we didn't win." said Nesryn.

"There's a party for everything, love." said Lyria. "Come on." She slung an arm around the girl and began steering her outwards. 

* * *

 (Sensible Praise and Advice)

Aelin was practically wrapped in her House colors. She looked so damn red and gold it hurt to look at her. However, she wasn't really feeling the whole party situation. Not because they had tied rather than won, but because seeing Aedion play, even for five minutes so Lyria could fix up her nose, kinda hurt a little. She was supposed to be cheering him on, but every time she looked at him she got this sick feeling in her stomach. And there was no way she was gonna make nice until he apologized.

So maybe she didn't want to see him fawned upon by the entire House. Aelin found herself just walking the castle, which was surprisingly silent for a Saturday morning. She hit the first floor when, of course, she ran into the second least person she wanted to see. Literally. Aelin smacked into a green and silver clad chest and hit the ground, hard.

"Ow!"

"Oh, I-"

She looked up at Manon Blackbeak, who while surprised, was positively  _glowing_. Manon stared at her for a second. "Um." she said.

Aelin pulled herself up. "Excuse you."

A familiar sneer crossed Manon's face. "Watch where you're going, Galathynius."

"If you can see the Snitch, Blackbeak, I think you can keep an eye out for a person."

She was still glowing from the win. "Jealous?"

Aelin laughed, folding her arms. "Oh, you wish."

Manon draped an arm around Aelin's shoulders. "Come on, Galathynius, didn't you say you wanted to see me fly? What'd you think?"

For some ungodly reason, Aelin felt the blood rise to her face. "Merlin, personal space, Manon."

The Ironteeth witch grinned.

"And if you want senseless praise, I'm sure there's a party in your Common Room. You can be fawned over there."

"Yeah, but I want your senseless praise." 

Aelin huffed, because she wasn't an untruthful person by nature. " _Fine_."

Manon pulled back expectantly. 

"You were really good at dodging things. I mean, not as good as I am. Obviously. But you were passable."

"Passable, huh?"

"Barely. Kinda. Just barely passable. And I suppose you were a fast flyer, I guess."

"You suppose."

"If I'm held at wand point, and I  _had_ to compliment you." said Aelin. "Yeah, considering you're so tall. Also I guess. You have a good eye."

 Manon was grinning. "Why, thanks."

"Senseless enough for you."

"No," said Manon, starting to turn away. "I think it was really sensible praise, actually. Can't  _wait_ to play you next year."

"Oh, bring it on." said Aelin, smiling despite herself.

Walking away, Manon tossed over her shoulder a parting comment. "Oh, by the way, make nice with your cousin. He's emotionally unstable right now. He let like three Bludgers by me."

Her words rang through the hall, leaving Aelin frozen, and despite her best interests, contemplative.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to ANTI by Rihanna. (and Pillowtalk and This Is Acting there was so much good music this week)  
> Also I'm sorry about being OC central in order to do the Quidditch. Everyone in the Hogwarts teams are actually characters though (I RAN OUT OF PEOPLE SO KASIDA THE HORSE IS NOW A PERSON)  
> Next time on PLTLWM get ready for that Transfig exam, Aelin/Aedion tensions rise, and you know. Other stuff.
> 
> Reviews are Aelin having a really fun time w/ Quidditch!!


	8. The Antler Throne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Once again, so?" snapped Aelin. "I have friends other than Ashryver. He has other friends. I don't need to see him, or talk to him, or think about him. Merlin, why is everyone so hung up on us?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW. INCREDIBLY LATE. SORRY.  
> warning; Aedion is awful in this chapter, but for good reason

**Chapter 8-The Antler Throne**

or

"Family Feud"

"The Antler Throne is empty."

"No one knows better than us." said Evalin. Her face was lined with sorrow, with impatience and hurt. Her husband stood beside her, similarly bedecked. 

"We need to fill it." said Murtaugh Allsbrook. 

Evalin looked away from the old man's face, directing her attention somewhere in her sitting room. The three of them sat in some semblance of normalcy by the fire, each holding a cup of tea. 

"Merlin, Murtaugh, his grave's not even cold, and you want to set up his replacement?" said Rhoe.

"I'm being realistic." snapped the old man. "With Adarlan's support growing, and what  _you've_ said about the Ministry-"

"That's not why we're upset." said Evalin, her voice uncharacteristically harsh. "You're insinuating something by coming to us first. Why did you bring this up at our next court meeting?"

There was a pregnant pause. "Fine." allowed Murtaugh. "But Orlon was a Galathynius. And-"

Rhoe stared at the ceiling. 

"No." said Evalin firmly. "No, my husband will  _not_ take the throne."

"It's always a Galathynius. And I'd ask  _you_ , Ashryver, but....well, Ev, you've always had Wendlyn in your heart. You're too close to Doranelle."

"I am the opposite of close to Doranelle." snapped Evalin. "But it doesn't matter. Neither of us will be taking the throne. We have a child, Murtaugh, an eleven year old child."

"I have grandchildren as well." said Murtaugh. "I understand."

"Not well enough apparently." said Rhoe. "Aelin...our girl didn't even know Orlon. At  _all_. And he was my uncle, he was blood kin. If I take up his mantle, my child will never see me again. Not  _me_ , anyway, not as I am now."

"There are sacrifices to be made!" thundered the old man. "Do you not see what is going on? What Adarlan is doing? If he continues at this rate, he'll be Minister by summer. And then, slowly, the provinces will fall to him. He'll outlaw our kind. He'll milk our lands of their riches and leave us  _bare_. If we do nothing, we'll end up no better than those Crochans!"

"I'd sacrifice my life, Allsbrook." said Rhoe, his voice silver lightning compared to the other man's rage. But it was clear that Rhoe's anger wasn't easily contained, and that he was about to break. "But not my daughter. Not my relationship with my daughter. Find. Someone. Else."

Evalin still wasn't looking at them. "Murtaugh," she began softly. "We'll get back to you."

Rhoe turned to his wife. " _What?_ "

"Go now." said Evalin, shaking her head. "We'll talk."

Murtaugh Allsbrook stood and bowed shortly, before leaving the sitting room. 

"Ev, what are you saying?"

Evalin was crying. Rhoe looked at her, stricken. "I'm saying...I'm saying that sacrifices must be made." She looked to him suddenly, taking his hands. "The greater good, right? That's what we swore for this court. You told me, before we were married, you told me Terrasen wasn't just politics. It was danger, and dark, and the greater good. And I cared about some causes so I signed up, but I wouldn't have...if Adarlan takes over, our little girl won't get the life we want for her. And who else do you think can take the throne? Rosamel? Cal? Could you do that to Cal?"

"Could you do that to  _me_?" his voice was soft, hurt, and Evalin sobbed suddenly, hiding her face in her hands. Rhoe shook his head, pulling her hands away and down. "No, Evalin, if you want me to do this, you're going to have to say it. You need to completely understand. Because Murtaugh's right, it can't be you, you do have too much Wendlyn in you. Your rule wouldn't be solid. But Evalin, I would never ask this of you."

"It's your decision." said Evalin. "I'd do it if I could."

"I know."

"I still can. Never mind the Ashryver name. Ask me, and I'll do it."

"You can't."

"Rhoe, please..."

"What needs to be done, Evalin?" he asked, still holding her hands. Evalin blinked final tears from her eyes. 

"Rhoe."

"What needs to be done?"

"Be king."

* * *

 (Forceful Mediation)

"So you can cut my hair?" asked Aelin dubiously. Kathy Davies, Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, rolled her eyes. 

"That's what I said, kid."

"And it'll...look good? And everything?"

"It'll look fine, if all you want is to make it shorter." said Kathy. "A straight cut? No layers? Yeah, I can do that for you."

 Aelin still seemed doubtful. Kathy sighed. "Look, there are a couple other kids in like, Slytherin and Ravenclaw who are better at cosmetic charms, if you want to go to them."

"I am  _not_ asking a Slytherin." said Aelin immediately. "Not until our rematch."

Kathy grinned. "Atta girl."

"But maybe I'll keep it long? I kinda like it." She fingered the edges of her gold hair, which almost reached her elbows. 

The Quidditch Captain shrugged. "Whatever, kid, you came to me."

Aelin nodded. "Yeah, sorry for wasting your time."

"No prob." said Kathy, getting up from her seat in the Gryffindor Common Room. "Oh, if you get a chance, could you tell your cousin practice has been pushed back an hour?"

The first year's mouth twisted. "Um, I'll let someone know."

"Oh, Merlin, are you two still in that spat of yours?"

She really didn't know how whatever 'spat' Aelin had with Aedion had become so publicized. She had yelled at him  _once_ in the library, but they hadn't spoken since. All the cousins were given each other stony silence. Aelin rolled her eyes, a little more spiteful. "It's not a spat."

"Yeah it is, hon." said Kathy. "I'm not the type to lecture on family values though. You should fix it before the rematch. I need Ashryver on his game more than ever."

Aelin didn't respond, and the captain left her to her thoughts. A few moments later, Chaol and Nesryn came to join her on the couch. She smiled up at them.

"Hey, guys."

"Hi, Aelin."

"Did you do the Transfig?" asked Chaol by way of greeting.

Aelin laughed. "Does it look like I did the Transfig work?"

He shrugged.

"Did you?"

Nesryn nodded, but Chaol scoffed along with Aelin. "Does it look like  _I_ did the work?"

"So, Faliq-"

"No, you may not look at my notes." said Nesryn fondly. Aelin stuck her tongue out at her.

"That's not what I was going to ask."

"Yeah?" asked Nesryn, amused. "Then what?"

Aelin faltered for a second. "I was  _going_ to ask you if you knew Quidditch practice was pushed back an hour."

"Oh, yeah, Kathy caught me a while back."

"Oh! Great." said Aelin. She fidgeted for a bit. "Um, so if you could tell the rest of the team that, it would be great."

Nesryn raised an eyebrow. "And by that, you mean Ashryver."

"What? I meant everyone-"

"Aelin, you've been avoiding him like mad for a while now. You practically live in the library."

Aelin huffed, leaning back. Okay,  _true_ , but it was a little difficult to avoid someone who was also in Gryffindor. And since Aedion was older, she supposed he got custody of the main common room. She was only sitting here because Kathy had insisted. 

"While this may be correct, technically." she began in a very prim voice. Nesryn and Chaol sniggered. "I at least got the first years in the divorce. You are supposed to be quite firmly on my side, so kindly shut up."

"Aelin, this can't last." said Chaol. "Come on, it's Aedion."

"So?"

"So for the last like six months we've watched you two be thick as thieves." 

"Once again, so?" snapped Aelin. "I have friends other than Ashryver. He has other friends. I don't need to see him, or talk to him, or think about him. Merlin, _why_ is everyone so hung up on us?"

"Look, I've got a little brother-" Chaol began.

"He is  _not_ my brother. He's my cousin. We went through this already, Chaol! Just cause we look alike doesn't mean we agree on things. Certainly doesn't mean he's not a judgmental piece of-"

"Okay." said Nesryn. "Whatever. I'll tell Aedion about practice."

Chaol threw her a look. "Nesryn."

"What?" Nesryn shook her head. "They'll figure out their own business. It's not our job to coddle them. We won't get anywhere by butting in."

"Thank you." said Aelin, rolling her eyes. "Now can we  _please_ do this Transfiguration? Our exam is literally in two days."

* * *

 

(Avifors!)

" _Flipendo!"_

"Excellent work, Ms. Galathynius."

The desk she had bewitched flew backwards and hit the wall. Aelin tucked her wand back into the waistband of her school skirt and grinned up at Professor Hamel. "Thanks, Professor."

Arobynn turned to the rest of the class. "As Ms. Galathynius has demonstrated, when using the Knockback Jinx, it's best to actually hold your wand away from your body. Yes, I know, you want a firm grip on it, but basic wandwork relies on having confidence in your wand movements. Thank you, Ms. Galathynius, you may return to your seat."

Aelin headed back to her customary seat between Chaol and Dorian. The latter leaned over and muttered under his breath: "Teacher's pet."

"Shut up, Dorian." whispered Aelin. "Just cause I'm  _fab_ -"

Dorian chuckled and elbowed her lightly. Chaol, without taking his eyes off the blackboard, reached over and thoroughly mussed her hair. Aelin's squawk of outrage brought the professor's eye to the back of the class.

"Ms. Galathynius?"

"S-sorry, Professor." said Aelin, face red.

Professor Hamel nodded, and turned back to his lecture. Aelin made a face at Chaol. 

Dorian surreptitiously slid his folder over to her, and Aelin whispered a million thanks.

"What's that?" asked Chaol. 

"Transfig notes." said Dorian, as Aelin began frantically revising. "A's paranoid."

"And rightly so." hissed Aelin. "Just cause you're an old hat at Transfig and Chaol doesn't care doesn't mean I can't get good marks."

"You were revising with Nehemia for hours yesterday." said Chaol.

"Our exam is right after lunch, Chaol!" said Aelin, hysterically whispering. "Okay, quick, the incantation and wand movements of Switching Spells?"

"Ms. Galathynius." called Professor Hamel from the front of the class, a little more firm this time. Aelin looked up, a deer caught in the head lights. She blinked, comically, as the rest of the class turned to stare at her. 

"Um." she said. 

"Switching Spells are the extra credit." called Ghislaine from a few rows ahead of her. Sorscha, next to her, giggled. "The essay question is on the Avifors Spell."

"Thanks." said Aelin weakly. Had she really been that loud?"

"If you're finished." said the professor pointedly. 

"Sorry." said Aelin again, hurriedly stowing the notes away.

Hamel opened his mouth again, but just then the bell rang shrilly over them. He sighed. "Alright, class, question papers on my desk."

The class dutifully shuffled forward, handing their homework into a neat pile on his desk. As Aelin dropped her stack of parchment, Professor Hamel nodded to her. 

"Stay back a bit, will you, Aelin?"

The girl seemed to shrink. Was she going to get in trouble for all this? "Course, sir." she said, nodding a glum goodbye to Dorian and Chaol.

As the rest of her classmates filtered out, Aelin's mood began to dampen. Of course, of all the things to happen on Exam Day. When she was alone with the professor, she waiting for him to scold her.

"Feldman's exam is today?" Professor Hamel asked instead, sitting at his desk comfortably. 

Aelin nodded, surprised. 

"Calm down." he ordered. "I'm not going to maim you. I just wanted to talk."

"Okay." said Aelin. She liked Professor Hamel, liked him a lot. It also probably had something to do with the fact that she was a star at DADA. 

Professor Hamel leaned forward, looking up at her, vaguely appraising. "You're very talented at Defense. It's hard to see potential at a young age, but you absolutely reek of it."

She felt her cheeks color. "Thanks, professor."

"A lot like your mother actually, if I remember correctly from my own school days." said Hamel, shaking his head nonchalantly. "But I wanted to ask-"

"You knew my mother?" Aelin winced, realizing she had interrupted and that Professor Hamel had raised an eyebrow. "Sorry, sir."

"It's fine. Yes, I knew Evalin, though she was a few years above me at school. I'm sure your father was there too, but I was a Slytherin, and we did pay rather a lot of attention to the Gryffindors back then."

"Still do." said Aelin darkly, remembering Manon Blackbeak. Professor Hamel grinned wolfishly, as if he had read her mind.

"House loyalties aside, I wanted to ask if you'd be interested in tutoring."

"I don't need tutoring." said Aelin, frowning. "You just said I was good."

"Private tutoring." said Professor Hamel. "With me."

Aelin's jaw dropped. 'Oh."

"You're too good to progress at a natural, academic rate." continued Hamel. "I'll teach you beyond the curriculum, and if anything you'll be ahead of the game next year. It'll only be a few hours a week, but if it's too much a time commitment, I understand-"

"No, I'll do it." said Aelin hastily. "That sounds amazing, Professor, thank you!"

"You deserve it." said Professor Hamel, smiling dryly. 

"Well, we'd have to adjust when I make the Quidditch team next year." said Aelin, grinning like an imp. 

Hamel let out a bark of a laugh. "Of course. Though if there's anyway I could persuade you not to do that..."

"I can't just let Slytherin win, Professor."

"Go on." ordered Hamel. "You have lunch break."

"Thank you again." said Aelin sincerely, as she backed out of the room.

"Aelin?" called Hamel as she reached the door. The first year turned. "I saw Feldman's question papers. There are two essays. Look over your transformation formula, you'll have to define it."

Aelin grinned so widely she thought her face may split in two.

* * *

(Tapped Aggression)

"Okay," said Kathy Davies, hovering two hundred feet in the air in front of her team. "Let's just run some drills, and then we'll end with a brief scrimmage. That's it for today."

The Gryffindor Quidditch team, subs and all, hung weary in the air. They all looked exhausted, but Kathy knew that these drills helped engrave her plays in their heads. And during a game, it was really important that they knew each and every position off the top of their heads, when they were most tired. 

Under Kathy's rule, the team went by numbered plays. Her predecessor preferred catchy names and puns to yell out during games, but Kathy found that screaming "Run a six!" rather than "A Nice Pair of Balls!" increased their scare factor and had a much less chance of having her players burst out into giggles during a match.

('A Nice Pair of Balls' was a Beater play in which both players would shift to the opponent side of the field, yet act in a defensive manner. It was normally used when all three Chasers were on the offensive. Kathy renamed it '88'.)

"We're running one through five today," said Kathy, Quaffle under her arm, lining up midfield. " _And_ nine, cause I saw how Blackbeak went under our defense last game. Ready?"

The team nodded their assent, and Kathy called out a play for them to run. Because she was a Keeper, it was a lot easier to watch her team perform, considering she didn't have to move for most of them. But she hadn't always played Keeper, she had played a half dozen other positions, bouncing around sub positions for years before getting first string-she was the all rounder capable of writing plays that took every position into account.

Despite their exhaustion, the team flew their plays well. Kasida, Cain and Sol were as lightning quick as always, Gryffindor's main force. Lyria and Ress worked as though they had one brain, and seventh year Seeker Harding darted through them all with no fear. 

Afterwards, Kathy called for plays with the entire team, including the subs. The subs and the first line working together made the field feel a little full, but even with five Chasers, three Beaters, two Seekers and a Keeper, the team worked well together. An oiled machine. Or at least, that's what she thought.

A sharp  _crack!_ sounded through the pitch, and Kathy wheeled around. 

"What the  _hell_ was that?"

Second year Beater Lyria Fioriture was reeling backwards, a palm pressed against her nose as blood gushed through her fingers. Harding flew over to her immediately, catching her shoulders to support her on her broom. Kathy was flying full speed towards them, as was the rest of the team. 

"Oi, Lyria-" in an unnatural show of compassion, Kathy examined her gently. "Are you okay? What happened?"

The Beater tried to speak, but her voice came out muffled from her hand and all the blood. "Um, sorry, Captain."

Kathy looked around. "What happened?" she asked again. She looked from her almost apathetic Chasers to Ress, and then Nesryn's guilty expression, finally settling on Aedion's impassive face. He wasn't holding his bat. "Ashryver."

"He chucked his bat at her." snapped Harding, his arm still around Lyria's shoulders. "Fuckin' crazy."

The captain held a staying hand out to him. "Ashryver?" she asked again, an edge climbing in her voice.

Lyria brushed her elaborately braided princess hair over her shoulder. "I was a little off my position." she said thickly, staring at Aedion. 

Kasida and Harding both scoffed, sounding eerily similar. "That's bullshit." said Harding.

It probably was bullshit, thought Kathy. Lyria was their best Beater, even if she was just a second year. She was incredibly precise. 

"I'm sure his bat just slipped." said Lyria, enunciating every word, staring straight at Aedion until he looked away. Each syllable hung heavy in the air between them. "Don't worry about it. I'm sure we can figure this out later."

It was an unspoken message to Kathy to leave it alone, that Lyria would fix her own problems with Ashryver if she needed to, and off the field. The second year removed her hand from her face, smearing the quickly drying blood across her cheek. Most of the team cringed back at that.

"Are you good to fly?" asked Kathy quietly. Lyria nodded. "Okay. Ashryver, you're doing extra laps tomorrow. I don't care if your bat slipped, you've got gloves for a reason, if you had really injured her we'd have a problem. Now apologize, quickly."

Aedion folded his arms. "Sorry."

Lyria removed her wand from where it was held in her elaborate hairdo and Summoned his bat from the pitch ground. "Here." she said cheerfully. "We'll talk about this later, yeah Aedion?"

"Sure." he muttered, taking the bat. 

"Right, we're still scrimmaging." said Kathy. "Separate into your normal teams. Come on, quickly, we don't have the pitch all night."

As they got into their positions, Kasida flew up to Kathy. "Hey, are you sure that's gonna be okay?"

"Lyria can take care of herself." said the captain.

"I mean that's the third almost-foul Ashryver's racked up today." said Kasida quietly. "Should someone talk to him?"

"I'll figure it out, but it's his baggage." said Kathy. "Anyway, we've all got a pretty good idea at what's bothering him. Besides I'm sure Lyria's gonna sit him down for a vaguely threatening heart to heart as soon as we shower."

"You mean his familial break up?" asked Kas wryly. 

Kathy rolled her eyes. "Into position, vice-captain."

The scrimmage went without any drama, but with Lyria and Aedion on opposite teams Kathy couldn't deny that the first string Beater was putting some extra power into her swings. Thirty minutes later, they were all trudging into the locker rooms, Kathy's halfhearted pep talk ringing in their ears.

* * *

 

 (Shake It Off)

"Hogsmeade, Ytger?"

Nehemia looked up with surprise, but it faded from her eyes and melted into a smile. "Don't tease, Archer."

The Slytherin grinned, snapping his wand back from where he had Conjured a bunch of yellow roses. "It's my nature."

"You're getting good at that." Nehemia commented looking back down at her book. She was in the courtyard, as the weather had finally started warming. It was March, and the sun was shining. Most of the Hogwarts population was currently outside. "Conjuring flowers, I mean. Roses here and there, who'd have thought?"

Archer Finn sat down on the bench next to her. "Alright, Princess, are you really reading on a day like this?"

"We're in Scotland, Archer, not Narnia. It's just a little sun."

Archer blinked at her for a second. "Did you just-"

"You're Muggle born, right?" shrugged Nehemia. "Come on, I'm cultured."

She turned to look at him then, at his wide green eyes. "Are you really that surprised?"

A wide grin stretched across his face, looking half charming, half sinister. Nehemia smiled back. He reached across and snagged the book by the spine, lifting it out of her hands.

"Oh!"

Nehemia reached back, but Archer held the book away from her. " _Unfogging the Future_ , really, Princess? This is canon fodder."

"Divination is  an important subject." said Nehemia hotly. "Give that back."

"You're not going to find absolution in your tea leaves-"

"Well, look at you two." said a dry voice. Nehemia and Archer turned to find Sorscha standing behind their bench. "I thought this wasn't allowed."

She walked around the bench, motioned for Archer to budge. He glared stonily up at her, and Nehemia eventually scooted over so the first year could sit in between them. 

"Not allowed for  _you_." said Archer, sneering. "We're in the same year. We're allowed to talk. You have no probable cause."

Nehemia sighed, resting her forehead in a hand. Sorscha raised an eyebrow, and grabbed  _Unfogging the Future_ out of his grasp. She crossed her legs posing the book on her knee. "Maybe Nehemia's tutoring me in Divination."

Archer snatched the book back. "First years don't  _take_ Divination."

"Alright, alright." said Nehemia, holding up a hand. "Calm down, both of you. Archer, it's fine if Sorscha talks to us."

"Plus, everyone know you two hated each other last year." said Sorscha. "I have more probable cause than you do."

Archer smiled a cold smile at her. "We've mended our differences."

"Sorscha." Nehemia gently reprimanded. She turned back to Archer. "And we should start involving her in some things. Our work is tough, and she's smart."

"Nehemia-"

"When I was eleven I was doing a lot more than sitting tight." Nehemia reminded.

"Well, that was  _you_." 

Nehemia frowned in confusion, but Sorscha seemed to understand. "Whatever. We can talk, or we can not talk. It's fine."

"It's not okay for you to settle for less, my girl." said Nehemia.

Archer looked up, and scoffed. The girls turned to him. "What?"

"Nothing." he said, disgusted. "Absolutely nothing." Walking towards him was Lysandra Lorien.

"I assume you're talking about me, then?" she said, voice syrup sweet.

"Yep." said Archer. "'Nothing' describes you pretty well."

"Archer!" said Nehemia, shocked. She looked at Lysandra. "I'm sorry about him. I don't think we've met, I'm Nehemia Ytger."

'I know." said Lys. "Lysandra."

"Good to meet you." said Nehemia, sincere. Sorscha stood up, ramrod straight.

"Thanks for lending me that book, Nehemia, it helped a lot." she said sweetly, before nodding to Archer and Lysandra. "Lorien, I'll see you in class. Bye!"

Nehemia waved goodbye, and patted the seat next to her. "Did you want to sit down, Lysandra?"

The first year looked uncertain. "I wouldn't want to intrude..."

"No, not at all-"

"Don't bother, Princess." said Archer, sour. "You don't have to put up a warm front for her. She's not worth it."

"Archer," said Nehemia again, shaking her head.

"She's got more secrets than the two of us put together." said Archer, grinning cruelly. "She can't touch us."

Lysandra looked uncomfortable. "Archer, I just wanted to tell you I got a letter from-"

"Shut up." he said coldly. "Never talk to me in public. Go away, now."

The first year turned white. "Sorry."

"Leave."

Lysandra turned on her heel, and left. Nehemia looked around, saw no one was watching, and smacked Archer in the shoulder as hard as she could.

"Ow!"

"What the hell, Finn?" hissed Nehemia. Archer looked sullen.

"I'm not going to apologize for that." he declared. "You don't know her secrets. I do. You can't trust her."

"I can't trust you, even, Archer Finn." snapped Nehemia. "Don't get all high horse with me. We talked about this. Unless you tell me who you are-"

He stood up abruptly. "I'm leaving."

"Go, then." said Nehemia, crossing her arms.

He did.

* * *

(Inside the Outsider)

"I'm sorry about Archer." The voice called from a corner by the stairs, and Lysandra turned toward it, professional distaste already written across her face.

"Don't worry about it." she said coolly. 

"No," said Sorscha, crossing her arms and looking away. "He didn't have the right to talk to you like that." At Lysandra's raised eyebrow, she continued. 'He talks to me like that too."

"I'm not here to bond over Archer's distaste of us." said Lysandra, turning fully to face the Ravenclaw. "After all, I could count the people he actually likes on my thumbs."

"So just Nehemia, then?" said Sorscha, rolling her eyes. "Whatever, I just wanted to apologize."

Lysandra paused. "Thank you." she finally decided, each syllable heavy on her tongue. "I appreciate the gesture."

The Ravenclaw nodded, turning and leaving, her long braid swinging by her waist. Lysandra watched her go for a minute, before turning to go herself. She made her way down to the Great Hall, where latecomers where finishing their lunch. Pausing in front of the door, Lysandra briefly considered going in. There were several of her acquaintances in the room, over at the Slytherin table. Archer Finn was missing. 

Spur of the moment, she spun and walked back the way she came. Today, at least, a letter burning a hole in her pocket, she decided social interaction wasn't exactly for her. 

There was sunlight today, and while Lysandra enjoyed it as much (more) as everyone else, today was a day for dungeons and torchlight and the wireless turned off. She wanted to be able to hear her own heartbeat, wanted to stew in her own silence until she felt clean again. 

Her feet carried her to the dungeons, but Lysandra decided to go by way of the extra Potions rooms instead of the Slytherin common room. She found a quite, dry corridor to sit and do her thinking, but for the second time a voice called out to her.

"Lysandra?"

The Slytherin spotted her as soon as she had appeared. Aelin Galathynius, torchlight glinting off her hair, sprawled out against a wall. She looked strangely stilted. Despite herself, Lysandra smiled. "Aelin."

Aelin gestured to the ground next to her, but Lys took the seat across from her, also against the corridor wall. "What are you doing down here?"

"I live here." said Lysandra.

"Not  _here_." Aelin rolled her eyes. "I have Potions with you, and we don't have that today."

"I just wanted to sit for a while."

"Ah." said the Gryffindor. "Me too."

Lysandra smiled wryly. "Should I find another spot?"

"No." she shook her head. "It's fine, Lysandra. You're not...I don't know. You don't make it worse."

"Explain?"

"It's like you have no background noise." said Aelin, and Lysandra thought she finally pinpointed what was so off about her in that moment. She had never seen Aelin look so sad, or small, or quiet. Pensive. 

"I've never seen you like this." said Lysandra, deciding the truth would be best here.

Aelin threw her a dazzling smile, but it melted off her face quickly. "This isn't rare." she laughed. "I know, I know, I'm being weird. I'm just too tired for social interaction right now."

"Should I find another spot?" asked Lysandra again, this time more seriously. "I won't hold it against you."

"It's not you." said Aelin. "I'm just like this. Or at least I was, before Hogwarts. I didn't really talk to many people back then. So in the beginning of the year, with all these people, it was a little overwhelming. I got through it, but sometimes I think I need this."

"Neither did I." Lysandra found herself saying. "Most of my friends before school were all older than me."

Aelin leaned her head back until it touched the wall. "I thought I had changed for the better, but recently everything's been draining. I spoke to my friends, people I love for maybe ten minutes today before it was too much. I was almost happy for my exam."

"I think distractions are important." said Lysandra. "I think compartmentalizing helps me."

"Explain that."

"Like you should use your different friends for different purposes. When I want to be a certain way, I'll go to certain people. When I need to be quiet, I go elsewhere. I mean, I don't do it that often. Maybe internalization is my way. But everyone needs their distractions."

Aelin stared at her for a long moment. "I-that's exactly what I do. With Dorian and Chaol, with everyone in my dorm..."

"Oh, good, at least we're both damaged."

This startled a laugh out of the Gryffindor, provoking a smile out of Lysandra. 

"I don't want to be the way I was." said Aelin finally. "I want to laugh and mean it. Like just now."

"You said this was recent, right?" asked Lysandra. "Something's obviously gone down in your life. Figure it out and fix it."

"I know what's gone wrong." said Aelin sheepishly. "I can't deal with it right now."

"That's you, then."

"That's me." she brightened. "But I'll have plenty distraction soon enough."

Lysandra raised an eyebrow. Aelin smiled widely.

"Professor Hamel asked if I would like extra DADA lessons with him. Can you imagine? I'll be so ahead of the group."

Lysandra had stopped listening, her blood running cold. "Say no." It was out of her mouth so quickly she didn't realize what she was saying. Aelin's smile faltered.

"What? Why? I mean, it's a really good opportunity."

Her knowledge of Arobynn Hamel was incomplete, but Lysandra knew that no man who frequented her Madame's establishment, especially as a treasured friend, was to be trusted. But Aelin didn't know that. And there was no way in hell Lys was going to let her find out why she didn't trust her own head of house.

Lysandra gave a small, disarming laugh. "Just joking. Sounds fab." 

Aelin knew better. "I'm guessing we're not going to talk about this?"

"You're guessing right."

* * *

 (Self Fulfilled Prophecy)

Aelin's Friday was going great, until she bumped into her cousin in the Great Hall at lunch, sending her food flying out of her hands.

She had just been bringing her plate over to the Ravenclaw table to ask Dorian a question when Aedion had sent a massive shoulder check her way. Thankfully, her plate didn't smash, but there was food everywhere, and most heads near the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables turned. 

She blinked, stunned. He looked surprised for a second too, before his expression melted into a scowl. At that, Aelin woke up.

"What the hell, Ashryver?"

"Same to you." he retorted. "Who goes around carrying plates of food?"

"I don't know, people with  _friends._ " snapped Aelin. "And who goes around violently assaulting people?"

Aedion scoffed.

"Yeah, I heard about that thing with Fioriture, Aedion, that's real classy."

"You really like being a know-it-all, don't you?" said Aedion, turning a little red. 

Aelin started to lunge, but cool hands clapped onto her shoulders.

"Hey." said Dorian from behind her, a little alarmed. "Why don't we just-"

But Aedion grinned fierce at  him, and Aelin reared back in an almost protective gesture against him. In her peripherals she saw Chaol attempt to vault the table to get to them faster.

"Oi, terrorist, what are you gonna do? Call daddy?" His grin was like a shark's, full of glass and sharp, sharp teeth.

"Aedion, I swear to Merlin," said Aelin, teeth grit, eyes flashing with anger. "I'm  _not_ having this argument again."

"It's not an argument, it's truth. Hogwarts shouldn't even let him in, let alone let him by no consequences."

Dorian, who Aelin had almost expected to start crying again, just looked coolly at Aedion.

"You can't say that." snapped Aelin.

"Why? That's what his father says about our kind!"

"We are  _not_ Adarlan!" she cried. "And neither is Dorian."

"Yeah?" said Aedion. "What's his last name?"

Chaol finally arrived, joining Aelin by shielding Dorian, but he brought company. Nehemia Ytger stalked forward with him, and all five feet seven inches of her were bristling with anger.

"That is  _enough_ , Aedion." she said heavily, brimstone in her voice. At this, Aedion was quelled, looking slightly ashamed at the complete disdain on her face. 

"It's true." he finished a little lamely. "You, of all people-"

"Yes, me." snapped Nehemia, pointing to herself. "Me, of all people. You are trying to preach to me? How self destructive do you have to be to even try this?"

Aedion looked away.

"This is over." Nehemia made a slashing movement with her hand. "If I can understand where to place blame, you surely can."

"Maybe not." said Aelin snidely. "He's got baggage."

Aedion looked up, shocked and upset. Aelin held her hands up, as if daring him to deny it.

"Aelin." Nehemia admonished quietly. The first year rolled her eyes, but stayed quiet. "But Aedion, please, you must understand-"

"I understand nothing." said Aedion sharply, turning and leaving the Great Hall as quickly as possible, hopping over Aelin's spilled food.

 

* * *

 

(Bonded By More Salt)

By the time Easter break rolled around, late March, Aelin and Aedion had around a half dozen brief scrimmages of their own. Aelin was getting so sick of the sound of her cousin's voice that as she sat on the train back, she thought of a full week without yelling with relish. He was staying at the castle, apparently. Rhoe and Evalin had offered to let him come home with them, but his self preservation instincts were strong enough to decline that particular invitation.

Neither Dorian nor Chaol went home for the break, so Aelin found herself sitting with Ansel and her Slytherin friends, who, much to her distaste, included the half fae Rowan and Manon Blackbeak. Neither of them contributed to the conversation, however, both choosing to look derisive every time Ansel spoke. For that, it was certainly an entertaining ride. 

"You two could be siblings." said Aelin, nodding at Rowan and Manon. Both sat, legs crossed and arms folded, silver hair gleaming in the train's yellow lighting. She was joking, of course, as Manon was incredibly Asian and Rowan's skin was at least three shades darker than hers. They both wrinkled their noses in terrifyingly identical gestures.

"That's ridiculous." said Rowan, before listing every physical difference between him and Manon. Blackbeak just looked at him coolly and then back at Aelin, raising a brow as if to say,  _you think I resemble that?_

Aelin giggled. "No, I'm right."

"Shows what you know." said Manon, examining her fingernails.

Ansel had turned to them, looking a little put out at how easily Aelin had infiltrated Manon's steely silence. "Um, I kinda see it."

The look Manon shot her was so cold it made Antarctica look positively temperate in comparison. Ansel positively wilted.

Rowan stood up abruptly. "I'm leaving."

"What? Where?" asked one of his friends.

"I'm stopping  by Lyria's carriage." said Rowan in a long suffering voice.

"What are you gonna do, braid her hair?" asked Aelin.

Rowan stared at her. "Yes."

The Gryffindor half choked. "What? I was joking."

"Rowan's really good at hair." supplied one of his Slytherin friends helpfully. "All the older girls in the dormitory come to him before dates."

Aelin turned to glare at Manon. "So that waterfall braid the other day  _wasn't_ a charm?"

"Hm." said Manon, not meeting her eyes.

"Oh my god, so when I asked you for the spell you were just being a loser by saying you didn't think my Charms was up for it! Fourth year charms, my foot!"

The Slytherin Seeker waved a hand evasively, two incredibly subtle spots of color appearing in her cheeks before standing up. "I'm leaving too."

"Sure." said Aelin, rolling her eyes. One of the girls inquired as to why.

"I have other friends." said Manon simply. She looked down at Aelin. "Elide will be there."

"Bully for Elide."

Manon sighed a long suffering sigh. "Are you coming?"

Aelin pretended to consider it before hopping to her feet. "I  _guess_. If you really want me."

"Shut up, Galathynius."

* * *

 (Turn the Rust Back into Sand)

Lysandra hadn't wanted to head back for Easter, but Madame Clarisse had insisted upon it for both her and Archer. She wasn't exactly up for speaking to Archer just yet, though.

However, the Madame hadn't even called for her yet. Lysandra was staying in the chambers she shared with a bunch of Clarisse's other girls, all older than her. This was the best possible outcome for her, however, as she had a healthy love for each and every one of them. They, in turn, doted on her as a little sister, passing on sage wisdom and bawdy jokes without discrimination. 

The escorts she lived with were all female, though that wasn't at all Clarisse's majority. Her clients hardly cared about gender half the time. But for Lysandra, she had six women carefully and lovingly show her how to operate in this life.

"How is school?" asked Daisy, whom Lysandra basically considered a mom instead of a sister. 

 _("I've a son your age." she had said once, patting Lysandra's cheek. "Maybe a little older. He's off making something of himself, getting an education. His employer sends me a picture of him every year, on his birthday, and he's got the sweetest little smile-I wish you could meet him, I'_ _m sure you'll be the very best of friends.")_

Daisy looked after all the girls, not just Lysandra. She was probably the oldest of them all, though she was barely twenty-seven or twenty-eight. Even then, it made Lysandra' skin crawl to imagine how young she must have had her child. 

"School's fine." said Lysandra. "Look, I brought back some textbooks. Potions, Charms-I think Potions is my favorite. It certainly seems the most useful."

"Excellent education, that Hogwarts has." called Briar, who was styling her long black hair by the vanity. "Don't worry girls, in a couple years our Lys is going to mix our own contraceptive potions."

Laughs rang through the small room, but the rest of the girls crowded around Lysandra and her books. Barely any of the girls got an education at all, and so the "How is school?" question was one that Lysandra received often with very hungry undertones. Briar and Lucy were by the mirrors, as they had clients to deal with soon, but Daisy, Vera, Fatima, and Rose all sat by the younger girl, very close. They were practically sitting on top of each other.

"Wow," said Rose, who's defining personality characteristic was how sweet she was. "This looks so advanced, Lys, and it's only first year?"

Lysandra blushed. "It's not that bad, if you have notes to study off of. I can show you mine."

"Lysandra's School for the Wandering Call Girl." said Fatima, grinning broadly and violently using jazz hands. 

Daisy hugged an arm around Lysandra's shoulders. "You're a smart girl, that's all." she looked up at Briar, who was now whispering quietly to Lucy. "Lysandra, honey, I'd love to fawn over you all day, but it's Lucy's Bidding night."

"By all means," smiled Lysandra, and the entire room turned to the blushing blonde Lucy. 

"Come on, hon." said Daisy, taking makeup brushes out of Lucy's hands.

"I can put it on myself." said the girl.

"Yes, you're sixteen, practically a real adult." said Vera, rolling her eyes. Dasiy shook her head.

"It's tradition. On Bidding night, your sisters take care of you."

Together, the five escorts carefully applied Lucy's cosmetics. Glamour charms  _were_ taught by Clarisse, so the best with them (Briar and Fatima) did their best without a wand. Lysandra was even allowed and encouraged to paint Lucy's pale lips a daring red. 

"Are you scared?" asked Lys quietly to Lucy.

The older girl cupped Lysandra's face in her hands. "How can I be, with you here?"

"You don't have to do that." said Lysandra sadly. "You can tell me."

Daisy looked over at them, concerned. But Lucy just shook her head. "Lys, I'm prepared, I think."

"You're never prepared." said Briar, carefully filling in one of Lucy's eyebrows. "It's more important to know that than to go in thinking you have nothing to worry about."

"There are worse things." said Rose, pressing a kiss to Lucy's hairline. "Please remember that they don't own you, even as men auction off your virginity."

"Just keep your face on." said Vera quietly. "Don't lose face, ever. You'll be surprised at how easy that is. Clarisse teaches us well."

"There are lines they cannot cross." Fatima was more adamant, more defiant than Lysandra had ever seen her. "You have still a women's honor, her rights. Hold it close to you, otherwise you will lose yourself."

'No matter what," said Daisy gravely. "Never forget why you're doing this. It's for  _you_. No one else. Maybe it's through extortion, maybe it's a shit life, but it's yours. So own it."

She glanced down at Lysandra, signifying that it was her turn to give advice. Lysandra had never done this before, as Fatima was the last Bid, and she had been too young. Lucy looked at her, expectant. She needed this, needed the reassurance. Finally, Lysandra settled on a piece of advice Dasiy herself had told her, her first day at Clarisse's.

"There is no shame in survival." 

Lucy sighed a little, closing her eyes. There was a knock on the plush door, and an attendant opened it slowly.

Briar glared at him. "Yes?" she snapped.

The small man flinched back, his posture unassuming. "Sorry to interrupt. The Madame wanted to know if Miss Lucy was ready."

The girls looked at Lucy, who nodded. "I am."

The man nodded. "She's also asked Miss Daisy Cortland to preside over the Bidding?"

Daisy nodded. "Of course."

"She'll see you now, then, Miss Cortland."

Daisy pressed a quick kiss on Lucy's palm before standing to leave. She smiled, a little sad. "No shame in survival."

* * *

 (Unthinkable)

"Have you heard yet?" asked Cal Lochan, in his best friend's office in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, in the Ministry of Magic.

Rhoe looked up, a little wary. "Heard what?"

"Damn, Rhoe, this is big, Ev's gotta know  _now_."

He waved a hand impatiently. "Evalin's home with Aelin, it's Easter break, we're switching who goes to work every other day. What is it?"

Cal handed him a  _Daily Prophet_. Rhoe frowned. "I read the paper this morning. Nothing that inflammatory."

"This is tomorrow's paper." said Cal. 

Rhoe raised an eyebrow.

"Marion works at the bloody  _Prophet_ , Rhoe, and it's nearly seven, of course they're done with it. Just read it."

He oblidged, but he was barely half way through the front page before finding the headline Cal had been referring to. "What kind of new nonsense is this?"

"I know." said Cal.

Rhoe rubbed his eyes to stare at the paper. "Evalin. Evalin needs to know."

"That's what I said." said Cal. 

"Great job." Rhoe snapped. "I cannot believe this. We have to prepare a statement, say the DMLE doesn't at all endorse him."

"I work in Magical Games, Rhoe, that's obviously not the issue. This announcement isn't Ministry regulated. It's just him."

"There's no way." said Rhoe. "No bloody way, I mean this country would be half down the drain before-"

"Owl that to Ev." said Cal forcefully. "She'll know what to do. We should meet this week, Terrasen, I mean."

"Agreed." said Rhoe. "There's some stuff you lot need to know, anyway. Murtaugh came to see us last week. You're right, Evalin needs to...damn it all, Cal."

Cal tugged at his arm. "Come on, lets get out of here. We can talk to some others. Put out feelers."

Rhoe allowed Cal to tug him out of his seat and drag him out of the office, still clutching the  _Prophet_ in a tight fist. On the front page, above the fold, read the headline:

**ADARLAN HAVILLIARD RUNNING FOR MINISTER OF MAGIC: SUPPORTERS RALLY**

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 30 pages?? how??  
> Thank you to everyone who reviewed and sent kudos, a thousand kisses for y'all.  
> Also consider checking out my New York AU, which started cause I was battling writer's block for this. I wrote an initial Aedion/Lysandra "met on a subway" au, but then I started Flashing Lights, which is in the same universe but jumps around a lot time wise, so I get to write whatever interests me at the time. For example, sometimes i really want to write gang member drug addict celaena, and other times brotp aelin/aedion, and I CAN cause it's not a full fleshed out story  
> but yeah, check that out too some of it's funny
> 
> anyway tune in next time on PLTLWM for more aelin/aedion confrontation, a lot more dorian, and arobynn's first private lesson.
> 
> reviews are aedion and aelin making up. kisses, see y'all later.


	9. Blue Velvet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian sighed again, shaking his head. "Sorry, sorry, I'm being-hey, why don't we not do this? Let's talk about your problems for a change. We always do my issues."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> longer. than. normal. how does this keep happening??  
> also this is my dorian centric chapter, (Dorian Havilliard's Day Off? Get it?) but it's not _all_ Dorian, so I'm saving my real Dorian heavy chapter title as "A Very Dorian Christmas", regardless of if it actually takes place in December.
> 
> shout out to tumblr user **deathlvhallows** cause it was their birthday a bit back and they're really sweet

Chapter 9-Blue Velvet

or

"Dorian Havilliard's Day Off"

 

"He's  _what_?"

Aelin slammed a fist on the breakfast table. Her mother raised an eyebrow at the outburst, unimpressed. 

"Aelin, that's aged oak-"

"Sorry," said Aelin hastily. "He's running for Minister? Adarlan?"

"Looks like." said Evalin, very calmly sipping her tea. "Toast?"

"Where's dad?"

"Your father is busy drafting a statement saying that the DMLE has no stock in the election, but he personally would not support Havilliard. Toast?"

"I'm fine." said Aelin. "I've lost my appetite. How can he do this?"

"Aelin," said her mother quietly, placing her tea cup gently down on its saucer. "I do not want to discuss this. When your father gets home, we can talk. But right now, leave it."

The first year huffed and sat back, gold locks gleaming. She had, in fact, cut her hair since Easter break had started, but Evalin had done it herself. The resulting cut had the bottom of her hair sweep her collarbones in a weird tickling sensation. "Ma, it's important."

Evalin lay two fingers on her temple, sighing. 

"If you would  _just_ let me owl Dorian-"

"No." said Evalin sharply. "I know he is your friend, and I know he's a good kid, but I will not let his father know you two are close. It's too dangerous, you can speak to him when you're back at school on Sunday."

"But he's at Hogwarts right now!" See, Aelin understood the logic behind this, but the mulish set of her mouth showed that she didn't like it.

"Even still, sweetheart, please, it's just two days." Evalin stood from her chair, brushing off her cream sweater. "I need to make a brief appearance at the office today. Is it okay if I go now, or do you want me to wait until your father comes home?"

"You can go, it's fine." said Aelin. "He'll be back soon, yeah?"

"An hour, tops." said Evalin. "Thank you, Aelin." 

She leaned over, cupping her daughter's cheek in a hand and bringing her forward to kiss her golden hair. Aelin leaned into the brief embrace before her mother let her go and walked out of the breakfast room, snagging her travel robes from the back of Rhoe's typical chair. 

Aelin grabbed a slice of toast, mentally composing a letter to Chaol.

* * *

(Dude)

"Happy Easter, man."

"Chaol, it's not Easter yet." said Dorian, grinning despite himself.

"Yeah, but break's started, so same thing?"

"You have no eye for religious sentiment."

"What, like you do?"

"Shut up," said Dorian. "We're at breakfast. Eat."

They were, in fact, at breakfast, at the Gryffindor table this time. Like when they were with Aelin, they switched between both house tables equally. Chaol obliged, letting Dorian butter his toast and hand it to him on a plate. 

"Thanks, mum."

"Dear Merlin, if you were my child-"

They were interrupted by the arrival of the post. A steady stream of owls fluttered through the windows of the Great Hall, hooting noisily and swarming to their respective owners. Dorian's tall tawny owl, Honor, was among them, making a large lazy circles around the hall before finally settling near Dorian's apple juice. Honor stuck his leg out. 

Dorian didn't react much as he untied the thick letter from his owl's leg, but a small furrow appeared between his eyebrows. "Thanks, Honor." he said, trying to sound flippant, and fed the owl a piece of bacon before patting him on the head and sending him off. 

Chaol twisted his mouth. He recognized the heavy script on the envelope as well, and knew who the sender was. 'Dorian-"

But the Ravenclaw was already shoving the letter into his robes. "Don't worry about it. What do you want to do today?"

His friend swallowed, but let it slide. "Wanna try getting real close to the Forbidden Forest?"

"Sounds like my kind of plan."

"Aelin'll  _kill_ us of she knew we did it without her."

"Dude, let's do it."

* * *

 (Delusions of Grandeur)

"You won your Quidditch game?"

"It tied." said Manon, eating a bowl of plain rice, across from her grandmother. "I did my job."

"You didn't do your job unless you won." said Clotho Blackbeak, signalling for a distant cousin to pour her some tea. 

"I caught the Snitch. As a Seeker, I cannot affect the rest of the team."

Her grandmother looked at her from over the cup of tea, eyes flinty. Manon flinched inwardly, but contained any visible reaction. "It appears we have very different ideas of what your role in this school is, Manon. You'll win the next one. You'll fix your team. Moving on, your grades last semester were acceptable."

Her marks were impeccable. Manon took the compliment gracefully. Arguing about the Quidditch was stupid, stupid, and she was here to try and prove she had matured. 

"Are your friends all acting their part?"

Her friends-the Thirteen, she had privately decided to call them-had been perfect. Sorrel and Asterin were also somewhere in the big, sprawling Blackbeak house. "They do their part. While I still socialize with others, they remain my core group."

"They should have all ended up in Slytherin." said Clotho. "Isn't that Asterin a  _Hufflepuff_?"

"Separating the Thirteen gives me grounds to be a more well rounded student." said Manon, taking the insult to Asterin and wrapping it deep in her soul. She wouldn't defend herself, and Manon wasn't crazy enough to contest it. No matter if Asterin was the fiercest, the best. No matter. "It puts me in good standing with everyone at Hogwarts. The professors can respect someone with a more open mind."

Grandmother raised an eyebrow, a positively cruel smirk stretching across her face. "The Thirteen?"

Manon didn't break eye contact, but two spots of color appeared high on her cheeks. 

"Delusions of grandeur don't become you, Manon." said her grandmother. "Grow into a title like that. Maybe when you're Wing Leader."

"About that." said Manon. "Wing Leader is, of course, my ultimate goal. After spending some time there I-I believe Hogwarts may not be the school to best help me achieve that goal, not when there are schools like-"

"You're staying at Hogwarts." said Clotho sharply. "No more discussion."

She knew better than to retort. Manon nodded, and returned to her rice. This loss did  _not_ mean she was giving up. There had to be a loophole somehow, somewhere.

* * *

 (Birth of an Icon)

The heat of Banjali settled on her like a second skin, a welcoming embrace after Scotland's chill. Nehemia sat in a crowded and bustling cafe, sipping hot spiced tea out of a chipped mug. Broken Zulu and Afrikaans and heavily accented English punctuated the air around her. 

Ah, to be home.

The city of Banjali was uniquely qualified as a Wizarding city because of it's location: the floating mountain that hosted Uagadou was directly above it. Uagadou was of course, the school Nehemia had planned on attending before the rebellion, where her parents had been educated. This gave Banjali a very high population of witches and wizards, though unlike Scotland's Hogsmeade, it held a healthy population of Muggles as well. This resulted in the Muggle locals becoming increasingly bemused at their 'quirky' neighbors' strange clothes, or that sometimes fireworks were set off in their houses for no clear reason.

Ironically, Eyllwe was the only place Nehemia didn't wear traditional whites. She was in jeans, actually, as it was Muggle South Africa, and a calico printed tunic. An elastic beaded ankle bracelet jiggled as her leg moved, shifting as she turned to accommodate the tea shop's patrons. She smiled at everyone who passed, flashing white teeth, and they all beamed back, throwing their own crooked grins in the mix. Ah, to be home! 

She felt so much better, just by being here, in a place where though she didn't quite fit in, she felt at home. And then a man sat in front of her, and all of that changed. 

"Uncle," she said warmly. 

Murtaugh Allsbrook looked disgruntled at the identifier, but accepted it. But the smiles sent her way became cold, and people hurrying past hurried a little faster, averting their eyes. "Why aren't people staring at me?"

"You're a wealthy white man, and I just called you Uncle." said Nehemia bluntly. "I'm afraid I've just excommunicated myself as well. Tea?"

"No, that's alright-"

"Don't be silly, I'm buying and I have customer credit to uphold." She waved to the man making the drinks, signaling for him to send over another spiced tea. "What we can discuss, we can discuss over tea."

"If you insist." said Murtaugh, looking disgruntled. "Miss Ytger, the things we have to go over...they're sensitive."

She held up a hand as his tea arrived. "I'm on leave, Uncle Murtaugh."

"This is more important than your spring break." he growled, before slapping a  _Daily Prophet_ on the table. "You don't get these in Banjali, do you?"

Nehemia looked at the paper briefly and closed her eyes for a beat. When she opened them, her carefree self was gone. "Can we stop this?"

"No. He's running. I have Terrasen on it, but they can't even do much?"

"Rhoe and Evalin Galathynius run half the Ministry." said Nehemia sharply. "Why can't they help?"

"DMLE and DMIR can only stretch so far. The race for Minister doesn't fall in their jurisdiction."

"Okay," said Nehemia. "But the elections aren't until next June. If we can't stop him from running, maybe we can stop him from winning. If your contacts at the  _Prophet_ help us with public opinion, I mean Calaculla is still fresh in everyone's minds, and I can call some ambassadors and petition the EWC to suspend his campaign."

"Calm down, Miss Ytger. We have time." said Murtaugh. "However, whatever we decide cannot stay out in the open. I'm swearing you to secrecy."

"Already done."

"You can't tell Archer or Sorscha."

Her eyebrows flew up. "Why?"

"I'm not saying there's a leak-"

"Good, because if you insinuate people I've placed my trust in are leaking information, we may have a problem."

"We must take no chances." said Murtaugh. "Do you understand?"

Nehemia sucked in her cheeks. "Fine."

"Good."

"No one will be happy with this, when it comes out."

The old man made a scoffing noise. "I'm not here to appease everyone. We are here for the greater good."

"Then stop employing children 'for the greater good'." snapped Nehemia. "I was a special case. My family-I couldn't have escaped this. But Archer and Sorscha, and I  _know_ you have people over in Ilvermorny."

'You've never complained about this process before-"

"I turned fourteen a few months ago, Uncle, how could I have complained? Do you realize how difficult shaping my own moral compass has been, when I've been raised as soldier?"

Murtaugh looked away. "Nehemia, you realize what you mean for these people, yes? For this revolution?"

"I-" she faltered briefly, at the use of her first name. "Uncle, do not misunderstand. I will continue my work, but-"

"This is not what I mean." he said. "People in Eyllwe, in Fenharrow, they rally behind you. Even the bloody Dead Islands have heard of you. I bet five galleons that if you go up to that school up there, Uagadou-"

Nehemia kept her mouth still, his accent was atrocious.

"-you'll see for yourself that word has spread. You are the face of an anti-Adarlan administration. If you lose hope, they all do."

"That's simply not true." said Nehemia, shaking her head. " _Terrasen_ is the anti-Adarlan administration. Your people."

"Ev and Rhoe are terrifying, yes, but you really think the people of Bellhaven and Castelobruxo, Kalasakti and Sri Lanka would follow them? Or me?" he smiled wryly, with no warmth. "You said it yourself; I'm a wealthy white man. I'm good to the world because it's easy for me. You're good _despite_ of the world. It's very, very hard for you."

"You know the idea of using a black girl figure head as a marketing strategy is abhorrent." 

"Yes, if I were using you as a figure head." admitted Murtaugh. "But I had nothing to do with this. You became our face on your own, through your own merit. No guts no glory."

She pursed her lips. "That's an awful saying, don't say that. And I'm hardly doing anything."

"Like you said, you're barely fourteen. And your address to Adarlan during the EWC is everywhere, it's famous, being reprinted everywhere. There are t-shirts with 'what, cause I'm not white?' on them. You're doing enough, Miss Ytger."

Nehemia looked at her folded hands, a little flattered. "Can I keep doing this on my own?"

"You've always been alone in this."

"Yes, I think you're right." she looked up. "Is there any way I can get my hands on one of those shirts?"

* * *

 

(A Firm Hand)

_Son,_

_You're probably wondering how I knew to address this letter to Hogwarts. Well, despite your mother's initial  insistence that you would be staying with her this break, when I visited yesterday, you were no where to be found. Imagine my surprise._

_Dorian, you're growing older. It's time for you to take responsibility. You'll be spending this summer entirely with me, don't bother writing Georgina about it. Your mother has no say in this._

_You've probably already found out that I'm running for Minister next term. While I understand this may be difficult for you-I don't have many fans, per say, at Hogwarts-think of it as an oppurtunity to show your peers exactly who's son you are. I'm sure you can take care of yourself, especially with young Westfall by your side._

_Remember: despite Chaol Westfall's nature, fight your battles yourself if you want any respect at all._

_Bring up your Potions scores. I expect a reply within forty-eight hours._

_Adarlan Havilliard_

* * *

 (Soften the Blow)

"Oh, Dorian, come here, quick."

The Ravenclaw shifted, while coming down the stairs of the boy's dormitory, and looked over. A group of first year girls were sitting on the dark blue couches, waving him over. The group consisted of Ghislaine, Sorscha, Thea and Kaya. The latter was the one who had waved him forward, while Ghislaine rapidly shook her head before throwing him a poison look.

Ghislaine wasn't too fond of him. He borrowed a library book she had her eyes on once. 

Dorian walked forward, pasting on a smile even though the letter in his dresser was burning in his mind. "Is there anything you need?"

Kaya grinned toothily at him.

Surprisingly enough, outside of Chaol and Aelin, Dorian found the most solace among the Ironteeth witches. They treated him no differently after the Calaculla disaster, or at least Manon told them to lay off. Whatever his reputation, of course, they got a pretty bad rep too. 

"Sit," said Kaya. "And help us with Charms."

" _I_ don't need help." said Ghislaine.

Thea rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well whenever  _you_ try to teach us, we all end up with a dose of vitriol and self hate."

"Big words." said Ghislaine sourly. 

"We already have our Potions/Herbology girl," continued Kaya, nudging Sorscha with an elbow. "And honestly Transfiguration is so simple, and no one cares about DADA. So we need Charms."

"And why, exactly are you studying all of our subjects today?" asked Dorian, sitting down.

"Ghislaine's idea. Exams are in ten weeks, and we're deciding the best sort of study schedule to go with." said Thea. "So we need your expertise."

Dorian grinned and easy grin. "I don't exactly 'study'", he said, making air quotes around the word. "I'm just naturally brilliant."

"Shove off." said, to everyone's surprise, Sorscha. She was smiling, though. "I saw you sweating before our last Charms quiz."

"I don't know what you think you saw, but it wasn't my sweat. I am carefree."

"Oh, I'm sure." said Sorscha, laughing. "Okay, all, what first?"

"Hm, Herbology." decided Kaya. "Sorscha?"

"How did I agree to this? Okay, let's do the review questions, then."

They worked like that for a while, give and take, with Sorscha heading the Herbology questions and then the Potions ones as well. Dorian was her partner in Potions, and the way her slim hand deftly chopped and crushed ingredients, barely having to check measurements, was a talent. The study group decided to take some time tomorrow to go to the Potions rooms and try their hands at the practical portion. 

As they shifted gears into Charms, Dorian realized something. 

"Hey, didn't Manon Blackbeak go home?"

"Yeah," said Thea, not looking up from where she was digging her notes out of. 

"How are y'all not with her? I kinda thought you lot flocked to her during break."

"She's at home for Easter, and didn't need all of us. Asterin and Sorrel are with her, and that's enough." said Ghislaine. 

Dorian shrugged. He wasn't going to pretend to understand that group. "What about you, Sorscha, why aren't you home?"

The girl smiled. "To be honest, I much prefer Hogwarts to home."

"I can understand that." said Dorian after a beat. Well, there went his good mood.

The Ironteeth witches exchanged a glance. "About that," said Kaya. "So we all know your father's a genocidal freak, yeah? No judgement, I mean, so's our girl's parents. But you know if this election stuff is real?"

"It's real." said Dorian gloomily. "I have confirmation."

"Damn." said Kaya.

"I mean, slight judgement." admitted Sorscha. "Actually, a lot. But not for you."

"You should let Dorian borrow your 'What, cause I'm not white?' shirt, Sorscha."

"But I  _am_ white."

"Yeah, it's like. Ironic."

"You're mad, Kaya." said Thea. Sorscha was blushing.

"Please don't tell anyone about the shirt, if Nehemia knew she's laugh for days."

"Love, you wear it to sleep."

" _Anyway_." said Ghislaine. "Any chance your old man's gonna win?"

"Who knows?" said Dorian. "It seems ridiculous, but my father has a lot of conservative followers. And when he says he's doing something, he follows through."

"Gross," said Kaya. "I hate personal commitment." 

"Let's not talk about this right now." said Sorscha. Dorian could've kissed her in thanks. He hated talking about his father, more than he hated his father being talked about. "We should get back to Charms."

Ghislaine looked back down at her notes and laughed, a rare sound. "Well, just in time, the incantation for the Softening Charm?"

Dorian rolled his eyes at the slightly backhanded comment. " _Spongify_."

* * *

 (Plea)

_Mother,_

_How are you? Father wrote me yesterday, probably, I only just got it today. He said he stopped by, and sorry I used you as a cover. I'm just having so much fun at Hogwarts, and I knew Father would react badly if he knew I didn't come home for one of the holidays._

_He wants me to spend the summer with him. I mean, it was in the plan already, but now I'm not sure if I'll be able to see you much._

_Anyway, I'm doing well in my classes. Chaol is still my best friend, but I've come to know a few of the Ironteeth Witches. Father should be pleased. You asked if I knew the Terrasen girl, Aelin in your last letter, but she's not in my house and we're certainly not friends. She's in Gryffindor with Chaol, so I barely see her. I don't think Chaol speaks with her at all either. I mean, what did you expect? I know better, right?_

_So Father has issues with my DADA professor? I didn't realize writing his name would give such a strong reaction. Either way, Professor Hamel's alright, a bit pretentious, and could go easy on the hair gel. Honestly, he may use the same bottle of Sleekeazy that you do, Mum._

_How is Hollin? Has he sent another tutor away again? It's getting ridiculous, you spoil him too much. He needs to learn some responsibility (and I can predict your response, I know this is strange coming from me. Maybe Father's rubbing off on me.). I miss him, though, and you can tell him that._

_Pick me up at King's Cross in June? Maybe Father will reconsider._

_Love, your son-_

_Dorian_

* * *

(Constellations)

The fire had burned low, Kaya and Thea had gone to bed, Ghislaine had retreated to her own corner of the common room, but Dorian and Sorscha were still on the couch, curled towards each other, talking in low voices.

"So your mum's left your dad completely, then?" she asked, sympathetic.

Dorian bowed his head. "No, she'd never. They're still married, but my mother's just staying at our summer home in Wales. Indefinitely. My little brother's with her."

Sorscha made a comforting noise. "That must be tough. Though I must admit, the idea of you summering in  _Wales_ -or honestly summering anywhere at all..."

"I am filthy rich," sighed Dorian. "I could always tell you it's not all it's cracked up to be."

"Coming from someone who's not, I promise it won't go well." said Sorscha simply.

Dorian sighed again, shaking his head. "Sorry, sorry, I'm being-hey, why don't we not do this? Let's talk about your problems for a change. We always do my issues."

She smiled, looking down. Her dark eyelashes skimmed her cheeks, which looked even more gold in the firelight. "You think I have problems?"

"You must." said Dorian. "No one's perfect. Except, of course, me."

The joke came out slightly weaker than he intended it, but Sorscha still laughed. "You're just about, family aside."

"No, we're talking about me again." said Dorian, leaning closer and bracing his forearms on his thighs. "What kind of friend would I be if you couldn't rant to me now and then?"

"I don't talk about myself very often," she allowed after a pause. "This isn't really my speed."

"Try?"

She licked her lips, considering. 'Okay. Say you have this friend, right?"

"Right."

"And your friend is lovely and kind and perfect in every way, but you're worried about them. And every time you show some concern, they smile and pretend they're okay."

Dorian raised an eyebrow. "I can't tell if you're being ironic right now."

"No, hush. So imagine something happens to shake them up. And now they're not so lovely, kind, or perfect, but they still won't talk to you even months after. What do you do? How can you get through?"

"Alright, your problems are both more normal and far stranger than mine." said Dorian. "And I hope the fact that  _you're_ my lovely kind friend isn't lost on you. But okay, I'm gonna do what I can without specifics, yeah?"

Sorscha nodded, already blushing. 

"The only way to get them to open up to you is to do this whole give-and-take situation." here Dorian made a gesture at the both of them. "Like us, right? So maybe if you're really honest, it'll work."

"I tried something similar to that a while ago." said Sorscha. "But she-I mean _they_ -become so focused on fixing my problems they don't tell me anything about their's."

"Then I think the issue is that she-I mean they-don't see you as an equal."

The girl rolled her eyes at the pronoun use, but grew strangely still as he finished speaking. Dorian quickly backtracked. "I mean, I'm probably wrong, I'm sure it's not-"

"No," said Sorscha, a little sad. Subdued. "You're absolutely right. She doesn't see me as an equal at all."

"Sorscha..."

"No, Dorian, it's fine." She smiled prettily at him, standing up. '"I think I'm gonna go to bed, though. We'll speak in the morning?"

She patted his hand and left, heading up the stairs to the star studded dormitory, maybe walking a little faster than normal.

* * *

 

(Baby, We'll Be Tragic)

"Alcohol, Evalin?"

The woman in question looked up at her husband, smiling lightly and nodding for him to sit next to her. It was late, Aelin had gone to bed hours ago, but Evalin remained sitting in front of the large mirror in the drawing room, exactly where the Chirstmas tree had been some months ago. She lifted the bottle she was holding. "What can I say?"

Rhoe sat next to her, huffing. "And you're not even drunk."

"I could always hold my liquor better than you." said Evalin. "Is Aelin-"

"Asleep, I've just checked. Bottle?" He took a swing, grimacing at the burn of whiskey. "I'm still no good with that. Do you remember, our sixth year Quidditch final?"

A wide smile stretched across her face. "Gryffindor/Slytherin. One of the only matches you could root for me."

"The after party..."

A bark of shocked laughter escaped her. "Merlin, Rhoe, that whole night's still a blur."

"It's strange that now that we're old and respectable-" Rhoe paused for his wife to give him a look. They'd  _never_ be respectable. "-and  _respectable_ , we miss the days the only thing we could drink was shit firewhiskey mixed with butterbeer. And now, we have five-hundred galleon bottles of whiskey, and for what?"

"I promised myself a few things before marrying you." said Evalin. "One, that I'd never become my mother. Two, that I'd never become  _your_ mother."

He huffed out a laugh.

"We're still us, Rhoe." she continued, placing a hand over his. "Still us. You're still the person who managed to topple Ravenclaw's House hierarchy at fifteen."

Rhoe grinned at the memory. "Hey, Slytherin had one too. Just cause we're the reserved houses doesn't mean we can be classist. And  _you're_ still the girl who spent six months in Wendlyn petitioning your bloody grandmother-slash-aunt-slash-whatever for demi-fae rights."

Evalin patted his cheek. "Sweet."

He hummed. 

"But you understand what I'm saying? That yes, we're older, but I'm not my mother. I'm not some stuffy pureblood up in her mansion-shut up, I know I'm literally in a mansion right now-and I still care about the things I cared about in school. And some. I could never picture myself doing the EWC back then, or some our other work."

Rhoe was silent for a moment. Finally, he asked the real question. "Why are you drinking, Ev?"

"I think Adarlan's gonna win."

"What?"

"He has support, Rhoe." she took a swing. "Real support. And a lot of money behind his campaign. It's radical, but a lot of people think that's what the Ministry needs. I think he's going to win, and I don't know what to do about it."

"Evalin..." Rhoe wasn't looking at her. "We can take steps. There are-we can take steps."

She passed him the bottle. "There's something we haven't talked about in a while."

"Oh, Merlin, Evalin, okay."

"Okay? You're ready to talk?"

"I'm ready. Why not, we've both got enough whiskey in us."

She grinned a sharp grin. "You haven't got nearly enough in you."

"Shut up."

Evalin looked at him then, mirth fading away. The lines on her face grew more prominent. "Terrasen needs a king."

"I know." said Rhoe. "We have options."

"Let's count." said Evalin. "Cal. Rey. Rose. Khadija."

"Marion." said Rhoe. "Not Murtaugh."

"Me." said Evalin. "You."

A heavy silence hung about them. The two looked at each other, understanding slowly permeating the air.

Rhoe let out a strangled laugh. "We named our options, and yet-it's down to us, right?"

"Yeah," Evalin smiled, bittersweet. "Yeah, it is."

"Well, fuck."

"Yeah."

"There's-" his voice choked. "There's so much to consider. Aelin."

"Aelin's the only thing to consider."

"She's the  _most important_. Nothing else matters."

Evalin turned away. "You know that's not-I mean, oh hell, Rhoe. Our  _daughter_."

"What would your mother do?" he asked, words ghosting past his lips. "Just do the opposite of that."

"My mother would take Aelin and leave you and Terrasen in this mess." said Evalin. "So yes, the opposite sounds good."

Rhoe looked at her. Evalin sighed. "No, Rhoe, I'm not leaving with her."

"Why not? Take her to Wendlyn. Take her to Beauxbatons. She'll love the Pyreneese-"

"No. We are in this together. A family."

"Then you, or me?" asked Rhoe, frustrated. 

"Logistically-"

"We can't do logistics here, Ev." said Rhoe. "Either way, we leave unhappy. We can't decide this one ourselves."

"Then what should we do?" asked Evalin, running a hand through her hair. "We don't have much time."

"A vote. We'll put it to a vote, for Terrasen. They'll know what to do."

Evalin looked at her husband. "Rhoe. We know those people very well."

"I know."

"We know who they'll pick."

"Maybe they'll surprise you."

She rolled her eyes. "This isn't democracy, Rhoe, this isn't-we can't-"

"We can." said Rhoe, suddenly convinced. "We vote for king. Who knows, maybe Rey or Khadija'll put their bets in. Who knows."

 _I do_ , was in Evalin's steely stare, but she let it go. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yes. We vote."

* * *

 (Slight Mediation)

"Hey, man."

"Oh, hey Chaol." Dorian answered, looking up from his lunch. "Sit?"

"Sure." he sat. "What's up?"

"Studying, actually," said the Ravenclaw. "Shut up, don't look so surprised. I do study, sometimes."

Chaol grinned. "No you don't, Dorian, you could get perfect scores with your eyes closed. Aelin hates you for it."

'Well, some of the girls from my year-"

Ah, there it was. Chaol got it now. 

Ravenclaw was one of the only places Chaol knew Dorian was safe, so it wasn't really a problem that he wasn't in the house. Of course, he still hadn't figured out  _why_ the Ravenclaw brood of Ironteeth witches were so protective of his best friend. In fact, was it just the Ravenclaws? Did Aelin cut some kind of deal with Manon Blackbeak? Because that seemed entirely in character, no matter if Chaol would be  _pissed_ she had kept it from him.

No, Aelin would tell him. They were very firmly together on the Protect Dorian At All Costs Brigade.

"Whatever, mate." said Chaol, grabbing a plate towards him and loading it up with potatoes. "As long as you were productive. I've done absolutely nothing this break."

"Yeah, I know." said Dorian, grinning. "You can study with us?"

"Dude, gross."

"Wow, Chaol. But yeah."

"What?"

"If Aelin were here, you'd study."

Chaol looked at Dorian blankly. "Have you  _ever_ tried convincing her not to do something? It's way easier to go along with whatever she says."

"I'm sure." said Dorian. "However, Aelin and I see eye to eye on virtually everything."

Chaol snorted, taking a bite. "Dude, you support the Ballycastle Bats." 

" _Virtually_ everything."

"Whatever you say."

"I detect a bit of derision in your voice, Chaol, care to talk about that?"

"I have no shame, Dorian." said Chaol, shaking his head. "So, what are we doing today?"

"Dunno, it's obvious we're not getting any closer to the forest than we did last time. Chess?"

"You beat me every time." said Chaol.

"So you can get better!" said Dorian.

Chaol just threw him a look. "Should I get in on any of this studying?"

"No, Chaol, you're fine, and I literally cannot study anymore."

"What, then?" Chaol twisted his mouth, thinking, and then visibly brightened. "I know! Quidditch!"

Dorian grinned. "Quidditch! You're a genius."

"Great!" said Chaol, pushing back the bench and standing up. "Let's change, and then we can see if Brullo'll unlock the shed for us so we can use the practice brooms."

"Sounds good." said Dorian, standing as well. Chaol gave him a nod, still smiling broadly, and left the Great Hall as quickly as he could. Quidditch with Dorian was a childhood staple with them, playing two-a-side on the massive Havilliard grounds. Chaol hadn't played since his disastrous try out for the Gryffindor team, and to his knowledge Dorian hadn't flown aside from Quidditch lessons with Brullo. 

He hadn't brought anything down with him to lunch, but his flying clothes were in his trunk upstairs. Chaol dreaded the seven flight walk up to the tower, but knowing he was about to fly with his best friend made it worth it. (He made a mental note to do this with Aelin once and a while. Apparently she was magic on a broom, though it could've just been her ego talking.)

All that changed, though, as Chaol was entering the portrait hole. He stepped in just as someone was stepping out, and collided heavily with their chin.

Stumbling back and tripping on the edge of the portrait hole, Chaol just managed to stop himself from falling by grabbing the side of the door way. He looked up to find that he had bumped into the last person he ever wanted to see-Aedion Ashryver. 

Ashryver looked as surprised as he felt, and had a hand over his chin where Chaol's forehead had recently been. Being taller than the first year, though, he had barely even wobbled. He recovered first.

"Watch it." snarled the second year.

Chaol was about to get mad. Like, really mad. He felt the rage boiling up in his blood, and through his peripherals saw some of Gryffindor House quietly tune into this altercation between the Galathynius/Ashryver split. But when he opened his mouth, all that came out was a sigh.

Aedion looked taken aback, again. 

Chaol let out another sigh. "Dude, how long is this going to last?"

"Excuse me?"

The first year reached up. rubbing his neck. "Like, I get it. You blew up at your cousin for misunderstanding or overreacting or whatever she said you did-you really can't think you were in the right, yeah? And now you've been taking it too far with Dorian cause Aelin won't talk to you, and both of you are literally blowing this so out of proportion."

"What-" 

"Nah, listen. Aelin's a god damn drama queen and we all know this.  _You_ know this. Of course she's mad you called out her friend, especially cause Dorian did nothing wrong. So you,  _you_ , by letting her run amok and be mad and not fixing it, are by default a hundred times more of a drama queen than she is."

Aedion was shifting from surprised to baffled. 

"And I don't actually think you believe Dorian's a terrorist. You've met the kid a bunch of times, and once is enough to know that he probably couldn't hurt anyone if he tried. You're just mad cause A's mad, and you said something messed up and lost her for a few weeks. But you can get her back super easily, if you both weren't so stubborn the word 'apologize' is foreign to both of you."

"Oi, Westfall..." started Aedion, furrowing his brow. "What are you-"

Chaol sagely held his hands up. "Nope, dude, I'm done with this. Washing my hands of the whole business. I just want to play Quidditch. If you'll excuse me." He motioned, and Aedion obligingly moved over to the side. As Chaol passed him, he sent a deep nod Aedion's way.

As he continued up to the boy's dormitories, Kathy Davies slid up to Aedion, who was still standing by the open portrait hole She leaned down.

"What the fuck was that?" she whispered, staring after the first year.

Aedion looked up at her, and shrugged.

* * *

 (Not So Standard Book of Spells)

 The day Aelin came back to school was the day Professor Hamel asked her to come in for her first lesson.

It was a little weird, being in the DADA classroom alone with Professor Hamel, but she adapted well and quickly.

"The first thing I'm going to do is up your reading list." he started with as she walked in and took a seat at a front row desk. Hamel charmed a stack of texts from his desk to float over to her. "You like to read, right, Aelin?"

Aelin looked at the books doubtfully. "Fiction, professor. Fiction."

"You'll acclimate," said Hamel, waving a hand. "It's important. Before I can start teaching you very complex magic, you should at least get past a lower classmen curriculum. All the bigger books are texts like  _Standard Book of Spells Grade 2_ or  _The Essential Defense Against The Dark Arts._ The slimmer volumes are the real interesting ones, however. It's less practical, more theoretical aspects and calculations, but if you've mastered these all spell work in DADA will seem simple to you."

She was listening, rapt with attention, but as he spoke began picking through the books. A thin leaflet which no readable title was made of old, crinkly parchment that smelled strange. Aelin looked inside to find rows and rows of cramped writing. She skimmed, and a couple words stood out to her.

"Huh." said Aelin, closing it and picking up another book. She looked inside, and found the same situation. "Um, professor?"

"Yes?"

"Aren't these a little....I mean, are these from the Restricted Section?" 

Professor Hamel seemed surprised. "No, Miss Galathynius, they're mostly from my private collection. The only library book in there is  _Standard Book of Spells_ , and that's hardly from the Restricted Section."

"Right, of course." said Aelin, picking up the first leaflet. "It's just...you don't see many papers on things like Inferi and Basilik venom outside of there."

He smiled. "It's Defense Against the  _Dark Arts_ , Miss Galathynius. You do have to learn the nature of a thing to destroy it, after all."

"No, that makes sense." said Aelin hurriedly. "I'm looking forward to reading it. It's just...isn't this all a bit advanced for me? Isn't Inferi on the sixth year curriculum?"

"I told you that you were too smart for the standard curriculum progression."

Aelin tried not to glow under the praise. 

"But," said Professor Hamel. "If you are uncomfortable. we can stick with the  _Standard Book of Spells Grade 2_ for now."

"No!" the outburst was a little louder than she intended, and she did blush this time. "I mean no. It's good. I want to do this."

Professor Hamel grinned, slapping her on the shoulder. "Good! Well, why don't you get started on those readings and keep me updated on the progress. Than we can figure our next meeting. Good?"

"Good." agreed Aelin, scooping up the stack of books. "I look forward to it."

"I'll see you in class, Miss Galathynius."

* * *

 

(Cool Cat Havilliard) 

The night that Aelin came back to Hogwarts, all three of them decided to hit up the kitchens at nearly eleven at night.

"-so I'm reading the first one, yeah?" Aelin was saying to Dorian. "And it's so cool, it's about bloody sharks and stuff-like  _literal_ bloody sharks, sharks made of blood that like, roam the seas as product of dark magic pollution. Damn, did I tell you about dark magic pollution? It's this theory-"

"Nerd," mouths Chaol to Dorian from behind Aelin's back. The Ravenclaw caught his eye while he was politely nodding for Aelin to continue, and tried not to laugh.

"-and then the natural conclusion is that every single time dark magic is produced, it leaves residue cause it's not natural, you know? But skeptics are all like, 'Where's the proof? Get us some readings up on this?' and that's kinda where I left off." Aelin took a deep breath. "Chaol Westfall, if you keep saying disrespectful adjectives behind me I'll hit you."

Chaol, halfway through mouthing "Crazy," stopped with a sudden choke.

"Uh, what?"

Aelin turned to face him. "Eyes on the back of my head, Westfall."

Dorian laughed, loud, as he reached out to tickle the pear at the kitchen entrance. "She got you."

"She did not get me." spluttered Chaol as the picture frame swung open. He stepped inside.

"Oh, honey, I  _so-"_ Aelin stopped short at the sight in front of her; Aedion Ashryver, once again, sitting at a long table, dipping a banana in chocolate sauce. He stared at the three first years with pure and unadulterated shock, and maybe a little exasperation. Aelin's expression turned stony, and she did a physical volte face so quickly she almost tripped leaving the portrait hole. The picture swung shut with a  _bang!_ behind her, causing all of them to jump.

"Um." said Aedion, looking at Chaol.

"Dude, I said what I needed to say." said the Gryffindor. "You really have bad luck with portrait holes."

Aedion mulishly took another bite of chocolate banana. Dorian stepped forward, causing both Gryffindors to tense a little. 

"I think we need to talk." said Dorian.

Chaol sighed. "Maybe this isn't the best time."

"No." said Dorian. "Now. Right now."

Chaol suddenly realized that while he bemoaned Aelin and Aedion for being stubborn to a fault, he was best friends with someone worse.

Aedion frowned, folding his arms. "What do you need to say?"

"What?" challenged Dorian. "No 'terrorist' this time?"

The second year winced. "Look-"

"I don't care if you didn't mean what you said, if you did." said Dorian, shaking his head. "Whatever, cause it's  _true_. My dad is a terrorist, he's a-a white supremacist, he doesn't really believe in immigration, he even set up Calaculla-it's all true. And I'm sure my friends and everyone on the Galathynius side of whatever happened in your house has argued that it's my father, and not me. But you don't grow up in a house like that without getting a little messed up, okay?"

His voice was shaking now, but when Chaol tried to lay a hand on his shoulder he shook it off. 

"So it's true. So you're right. But that give you  _no right_ to speak to your cousin the way you did."

Aedion looked up, meeting Dorian's eyes for the first time. 

"You called her naive, you basically called her an idiot in front of the entire school, and you stopped talking to her. What the hell is  _wrong_ with you, Ashryver? You were her only friend in the world until last September! Oh yeah, when  _I_ came along."

"Stop." said Aedion, holding up a hand. "There is no goddamn way you stuck around to try and stick up for my cousin. So it's true? So I'm right? Are you seriously not defending yourself at all right now?"

"Does it matter?" asked Dorian, frustrated. "Does it matter I argue my own case? Yeah. I don't think I'm a terrorist, by the way. I'm eleven, going on twelve. It's really hard for an eleven year old to commit genocide. But no matter what I say I'm  _not_ changing your mind, you've made that clear. So I may as well argue Aelin's case, cause she actually cares about you and you're being an idiot."

"So then what Aelin and I are is none of your business-"

"You're thick." said Dorian bluntly. "You must be. It is my business, cause she's my friend and I care about her. A lot, Ashryver, and it looks like more than you do."

"She's only mad cause of you."

"Okay, we're back to square one. Fine, I'll tell you why I'm a decent bloody human being. Do I hold it against Aelin that she's Maeve's great granddaughter? You know how many people Maeve's killed?  _A lot_. But I recognize that she is not her ancestor and her faults are not Maeve's faults. Not to mention you, Ashryver, are probably closer related to her than Aelin." Dorian threw him a look. "Then again,  _that_ makes sense."

Aedion bristled. "Maeve is completely different! Our group-Terrasen was founded off demi-fae being proud of their heritage..." 

Here he trailed off, dumb shock appearing on his face. Dorian nodded grimly.

"Terrasen and Adarlan were founded on the same principles." said Dorian. "It just so happens that my father's kinda...well he's not very politically correct. And neither is Maeve, but since Terrasen's older you lot have worked out most of your internal racism already."

"Damn." said Aedion. "That actually makes sense."

"I know." said Dorian. "Maybe if you took a second to think about it, you wouldn't have wasted weeks without talking to Aelin."

"Hey, I respond well to logic and people yelling at me." said Aedion thoughtfully, after a moment. 

Chaol threw his hands up in frustration. 

"The yelling was kinda welcome, by the way." continued Aedion. "It was a good....yelling."

"I'm sure." said Dorian flatly. 

Aedion huffed a sigh. "Alright, I may not like you, Havilliard, but I'm sorry I screwed things up. In general."

"Thanks." 

"Cheers." said Aedion gloomily. "But just cause I've apologized to you does not mean, under any circumstances, that Ace is gonna be chill with me again."

"I know." said Dorian, nodding. "She's-"

"Stubborn." said Chaol, glaring at a tile under his feet.

Dorian nodded. "That. So it may take a while."

"Years." said Aedion.

" _At least_ three. A public apology wouldn't hurt."

"Look, Havilliard." said Aedion. "This doesn't mean we're cool, okay? I'm gonna stop gunning for you, and I really did mess the situation up. You've been a good friend to her. But ti still doesn't mean I want you at her side."

"I'll deal with your disapproval somehow." said Dorian. "I could care less, Ashryver, really. As long as Gryffindor house and your Quidditch team stops being a war zone, it's good."

He turned around. Chaol raised an eyebrow. "Weren't you hungry?"

"Lost my appetite." said Dorian, already heading for the door. "And we should find Aelin."

He yanked the portrait open, stepping out carefully. As he left, Chaol turned to give Aedion a halfhearted thumbs up.

* * *

 

(The Illusion of Independence)

_Dear Father,_

_Responsibility, I am finding, is kinda an abstract concept._

_Spending the summer with you sounds ideal, and I'm not even being sarcastic. I need to know your world, need to know the way you operate properly. Don't get too excited, though. I meant what I said when I left for Hogwarts. I am keeping an open mind. I will enjoy spending time with you if only because I need to prove to myself that your way is the wrong way._

_Nehemia Ytger goes to my school. She tutors me, Father. You would not believe the political education I am getting here, not from books, but from the kids. I gain more respect here by being a good person than not letting Chaol fight for me._

_About Chaol, I fight my own battles. He just fights them with me, slightly to my left._

_So I'll see you at King's Cross. Also, I got pretty good Potions scores this week._

_Love, your son-_

_Dorian Havilliard_  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you know what'll be fun? I've been thinking about fancasts a lot recently and it would be rlly cool of y'all to send me your throne of glass fancasts. Either on tumblr or through the comments here, so I can make a compendium and compare/contrast it'll be really fun  
> here thast reviewers? y'all got homework (optional but pls it'll be fun)
> 
> reviews are MAYBE FINALLY an end to the Galathynius/Ashryver split


	10. The Ashryver-Galathynius Rift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian sighed. "This has been getting ridiculous, A. Your entire house is either begging for a reconciliation or plotting to kill whoever is on the other side of what's become known of as the 'Ashryver-Galathynius rift'."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Previously, on PLTLWM** : Aedion and Aelin are in the spat of all spats, cause Aedion basically called Dorian a terrorist and Aelin wasn't really too cool with that. Manon Blackbeak and Aelin are still making snippy eyes at each other, and no one has stopped this yet. Archer Finn, despite being in training under Madame Clarisse, is also working closely with Nehemia Ytger and her revolutionary anti-Adarlan team. Lysandra, the other Clarisse trainee, and Archer hate each other for reasons no one really gets yet. Gryffindor and Slytherin Quidditch teams have an eagerly anticipated rematch coming up. Also, Aedion's mother died a while ago, and he has issues.  
> and thats what you missed on PLTLWM!

**Chapter 10- The Ashryver-Galathynius Rift**

or

"Aces"

Mid April brought a warm draft through Scotland that completely baffled many, from first years to employees of Ministry's Magical Maintenance Department, who were supposed to keep this sort of thing from happening. The heat was a double edged sword, as while is settled on the Hogwarts campus like a wet wool blanket, it also glimmered beautifully off the Black Lake, letting the trees and the robin's egg sky contrast in flush.

This brought about a strange schism in Hogwarts students. Half spent their days studying in the sunlight, or letting the warm air banish the thought of exams from their minds. The other half, disgusted with the weather, retreated further into their dormitories, common rooms, and of course the library. This choice wasn't always unbiased-for example the entity of Hufflepuff house was outside, as the heat and their common room's position right next to the kitchens made staying in unbearable.

The first year Slytherin girls chose to spend their time inside their common room, kept cool by proximity to the lake. Even then, the girls had their school skirts hiked up around their thighs, not even wearing their light daily robes.

"It's hot." said Lysandra.

"No shit." said Manon Blackbeak.

Lysandra rolled her eyes as Lin and Imogen snorted. Elide, curled up next to Lysandra, patted her hand. "It  _is_ hot."

"There, Elide doesn't mock me, that's why she's my favorite."

"Whatever," said Manon, but she had a small smile on her face. "Lochan's taste is her's own problem."

 Elide raised an eyebrow, but didn't meet Manon's gaze. The silver haired girl frowned, and wondered if prodding the witch was a better way of getting her attention.

"Shove off, Blackbeak." laughed Lysandra, leaning back. "Ugh, okay, I know I've already said it, but-"

"- _damn,_  it's hot." finished Falline and Fallon together, their lilting voices the precise mix of  amusing and condescending. Lysandra made a face at them.

"My point," said the green eyed witch, 'is that it's far too hot to be studying for exams."

Manon scoffed. "Why would we have to study for this rot?"

"Agreed," said Lin, forever terse. "If Ghislaine were here-"

"Ghislaine would be in her books regardless of what exams she had." said Imogen, twisting a black curl around her finger. 'So there you have it Lorien, we wouldn't be studying anyway."

"No wonder you lot didn't end up in Ravenclaw." said Lysandra.

"Well, neither did you." said Elide lightly. "It's not like you're making any grand moves to hit the books."

Manon grinned. "Oi, Lochan, don't waver. I know you're positively worried about being rubbish at Potions."

"I'm not rubbish at Potions." Elide asserted. "But Aelin isn't exactly the best with exact measurements, and she's my partner. I'll be fine during the exam."

"Finally, something that Galathynius girl isn't good at." Manon leaned back, staring at the dark velvet ceiling. "I'm getting rather sick of her."

Her classmates all exchanged a look. Lysandra plastered on her finest innocent voice. ''Are you?"

"The way she goes on about Quidditch, like no one's better than her even though she didn't even try out for the team. I'd say it's all talk, but she's so bloody smug it's hard to distinguish what she's fibbing about. And to think  _she_ got to see Parvati Talwar and the Harpies, it shouldn't be  _legal_."

A condescending 'tell me more' was on the tip of Lysandra's tongue, but Lin shot her a look that clearly meant she should shut up. 

"And she plays Chaser, I mean, that's not exactly a very...If she played Seeker, that'd be interesting." continued Manon. "That Flaiq girl is quick, yes, but Chaser is such a team oriented position, how is she expected to properly utilize her talent-if she even  _has_ talent, by the way,  _that_ hasn't been confirmed-if she could be dragged down by her team. Gryffindor House isn't exactly athlete central."

"Manon," said Elide gently, but firm. "You'll get to play her next year. That's not too far away."

"Well, I don't care about that." said Manon, folding her arms. To be fair, the silver haired witch had been a little sore lately, considering that Slytherin had been absolutely slaughtered by Hufflepuff last Quidditch match. The Slytherin upperclassmen had collectively stopped seeing Nehemia Ytger for tutoring, as she caught the snitch in a record nine minutes. 'I'm just concentrating on this rematch."

"Yes, we're sure." said Lin dryly. Manon suddenly remember that both Lin and Imogen were Chasers, at least when the Thirteen played six-on-seven Quidditch back home (Manon doubled as Chaser and Seeker on her team whenever they played). 

"Right." said Manon. "Anyway. Bottom line is, Elide, you've got awful luck getting stuck with Galathynius as your partner."

Elide nodded, hiding a smile.

"I mean really, who has a rotten sense of  _measurement_?"

* * *

 

(Where Dwell the Brave of Heart)

"So you've spoken to Aedion." said Aelin dryly, tucking her legs underneath her. Dorian and she had come outside for a stroll, and had finally settled on the bank of the massive lake. dozens of other students were doing the same thing.

"Yup," said Dorian. "We should've brought a picnic."

"I was thinking the same thing." commented Aelin. "Why are you bringing this up to me?"

Dorian sighed. "This has been getting ridiculous, A. Your entire house is either begging for a reconciliation or plotting to kill whoever is on the other side of what's become known of as the 'Ashryver/Galathynius rift'."

"That name is ridiculous, and so's the notion that we should make nice cause people want us to. Aedion doesn't want to speak to me."

"Yes he does." said Dorian emphatically. "When I spoke to him that night in the kitchens, he seemed half embarrassed he let it get this far.'

Aelin sucked in her cheeks.

"I mean, come on, his problem was with  _me._ If I'm cool, if we figured it out, if we're good, than there's no reason for you two to fight."

"That's not it!" said Aelin furiously. "The things he said to me...I can barely look at him, let alone  _speak_ to him."

"What did he say?" asked Dorian, propping his chin on his hands and looking at her intently. "Go on, tell me. Or you can tell Chaol, apparently he had a word with Ashryver too, and his relentless bro-speak managed to get through to him in a way I never could."

"Are you saying I respond better to Chaol's logic?" she asked, a smile playing on her face.

"Never, princess, we are people of intellect."

Aelin pursed her lips and was quiet for a moment. "You know, I could've been in Slytherin."

Dorian glanced at her, surprised. "What?"

"It was a toss up. Slytherin or Gryffindor."

"I remember you were a hat stall." he said. She nodded.

"I decided Gryffindor had more perks, and I'm glad of that. I wouldn't have met Chaol, or you through him, or Nesryn."

"Not to mention sharing a dorm with Manon Blackbeak and four of her cronies."

Aelin shrugged. "Sorrel and Vesta ain't bad, and they're cronies. But things could've been so different. And god Blackbeak would've strangled me in my sleep by now. Or tried to, anyway."

"Maybe she'd indirectly force you to play for the Quidditch team." said Dorian.

She hummed. "No, I think playing against her would be way more fun."

"What are you getting at, A?" asked Dorian, evidently done with her rambling. 

Aelin stretched her legs out in front of her. "I mean, I chose Gryffindor for a reason."

* * *

 (A Letter's a Strange Thing)

Lysandra wasn't sure which of her roommates had brought a record player (she knew the wireless was Manon's), but she knew they would eviscerate her if they saw her playing her borrowed records on it without telling on them.

It wasn't her fault none of them had her music taste. Slow jazzy notes began to pour from machine, skipping where the record had been damaged. Lysandra sighed, leaning back onto her green sheets. Calm, she told herself. Calm. Her long hair flopped in front of her face, and she inhaled the scents of sandalwood and cinnamon from her shampoo. Ah, peace. Ah, tranquility. Ah-

A loud  _bang!_  had her sit up in shock, looking around wildly for the source of the noise. A gray owl, letter attached, had flown straight into the window of the Slytherin first year girl's dorm, and incredible feat considering that the window opened out to the lake and that her dorms were....underwater.

Lysandra was scrambling up in shock before she noticed the owl had a Bubblehead Charm on it, letting it breathe. She let out a breath as well, thankful that someone sending her letters wouldn't be inadvertently killing owls. Now, the problem of getting whatever was attached to the owl's leg into her room...

But the owl seemed to know what it was doing. It pushed the letter through the preliminary grille and waited patiently. Lysandra reached for her wand and held up a quick hand to the owl, to wait for a moment. She left the dorm at a brisk pace and went downstairs to the upperclassmen dorms. She knocked on the fourth year dorms, filtering through her options on how to sell this. 

"Bloody hell, who on earth  _knocks-_ oh."

The door had swung open to reveal a short black girl, so perfectly coiffed Lysandra nearly thought she found a kindred spirit. 'What?" she barked.

The truth worked. "My name's Lysandra, I'm a first year-"

"I know, I know." said the fourth year. "Sarah Oppel. What do you want?"

"I think I've just gotten a letter, but it came straight to my window, and-and I don't know the magic to-"

"Alright." said Sarah. Every thing she said was brisk, curt. Lysandra was getting tired of being interrupted. "One minute."

She ducked back inside the dorm and hollered, "Oi, Auslese! Girl needs an Impervious Charm!"

Auslese, Auselse. Ah, Lysandra remembered, that was the surname of her house Quidditch captain. In fact, 'Oppel' was a Quidditch name too. 

Another girl came to the door. Lysandra recognized her as a sixth year, a girl that she had seen around and privately thought looked like an older Manon. The Auslese girl folded her arms and raised an eyebrow at Sarah Oppel, who immideatly blushed and mumbled an apology.

"I'm here to tutor you, Sarah." said the Auslese girl in the iciest voice Lys had ever heard. "Not at your beck and call. You, first year, what do you need?"

Sarah opened her mouth to answer, but a sharp look from Auslese quelled it. "Lysandra Lorien." said Lys, voice a little stronger.

"Ivy Auslese."

"There's an owl at my window."

"Say no more." said Ivy, efficiently where Sarah was curt. She was all class, blonde hair set in gleaming waves. "Lead the way."

Lysandra took her up the stairs to her room, to where the owl in all it's Bubbleheaded glory still sat, shivering. Ivy clucked her tongue and gracefully waved her wand at the glass. a brief shimmer passed over it. 

"Okay." she said. "You can open the glass now, and none of the water will flood in."

"Thank you." said Lysandra, popping the latch and cracking the window open. The owl flew in and fell with a soft  _thwack_ on the carpet, leaking water everywhere. Lys closed the window again as Ivy bent to pick up the soaking bird.

"Bring him up to the library, will you, Lorien?" said Ivy, eyeing the bird with distaste. "It's rather rude to send an owl through the lake. They can hardly swim, you know."

"I'll be sure to tell that to whoever sent it." said Lysandra, taking the owl. Ivy nodded, and then turned on her heel and left. She placed the bird on her desk and got it a towel from the bathroom to sit on before grabbing the small scroll of parchment. it had been Charmed too, for it was dry. Unrolling the scroll, her eyes skipped down to the address. Lysandra groaned loudly.

_Lysandra,_

_We need to talk. Meet me in the kitchen in twenty._

_Archer_

All of that trouble, for Archer Finn?

 

* * *

 (I'd Rather Be Crazy)

"We need to talk."

"I've heard." said Lysandra, slamming her book bag on the table that in the kitchens, corresponded to Ravenclaw. "Get on with it."

Archer sat, feet on the adjacent Slytherin table, frowning up at her. The firelight glinted off his red brown hair and cast a harsh shadow on his face, making him look even crueler than normal. Towards her, at least. "Rude," he commented.

"You're not exactly high on my priorities, Archer." said Lysandra, folding her arms.

"Alright." said Finn. "It's about our dear old DADA professor."

Lysandra hissed in shock. "We can't be talking about that."

"We have to."

"No, we really don't."

"She can't hear us." said Archer. "She doesn't have ears and eyes everywhere...hell, we're her only eyes at Hogwarts."

"Oh?" said Lys, raising an eyebrow. “Then what's stopping me from ratting you out, and telling her all about your desire to speak of things we shouldn't.”

“You won't.” said Archer confidently. “You're a good kid, you won't tell.”

Lysandra felt herself go very still. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, and for the first time in a long time, she felt a slow boil of rage sneak its way through her blood.

“I'm a good kid, huh?” she asked. A sensation like rain flowed over her, and Lysandra found herself suddenly focused, sharp. She felt her hair start to go maroon at the roots in anger and stopped it firmly before Archer could see anything. “A good kid?”

“Lys-”

“So I'm not nothing anymore, am I?” she snapped. “That's what you said I was, right? Nothing?”

Archer looked stunned. “I-”

“Do you realize how you sound, Archer Finn? Because you wanting to use _my_ trust _,_ _my_ good will...with my neck on the line? You can't tell me I'm scum of the earth one day and then send a bloody owl underwater through my window the next! That's so messed up. So messed up.”

“I'm not here to try and start a fight.”

“Neither am I.” retorted Lysandra. “I'm here to finish one. We're done, you and I. You made this clear. We'll work together when we have to, but don't go relying on me as a _friend_. Don't tell me you trust me, that I'm a _good kid_ and that's why I won't tell Clarisse. Do not ever forget that I am not your confidant.”

“Then why won't you tell?” Two spots of color had appeared high by his cheekbones.

Lysandra raised her chin, green eyes flashing. “Self preservation. I am only in it for myself.”

“So you don't care about anyone, is what you're saying.”

She smiled, and it was the same harsh smirk Archer sent her when he berated her. “No one but myself.”

Archer folded his arms. “Clarisse taught you pretty well.”

“No, no. That wasn't the madam. That was you.” said Lysandra, mirroring him.

“I told you I didn't want a fight.”

“You disgust me.” said Lysandra bluntly. “Now spit it out, so I can pretend I didn't have to look at your face for more than a minute. I may be sick.”

“ _Fine._ ” Archer got up from the Slytherin table. “I need to tell you something that Clarisse cannot find out about.” at Lysandra's nod, he continued. “Hamel's doing something with his money. Moving it around, whatever, it's suspicious. I need you to-”

“Stop.” said Lysandra, holding up a hand. “Where are you getting this information?”

He flashed a grin at her. “Let's just say the madam isn't the only one I'm working for.”

She raised an eyebrow, but accepted it. “Okay. What do you need?”

“He's tutoring the Galathynius girl. Let's just say...the people I work for are very interested in keeping her safe. Keeping her parents safe.” Archer clarified. “I need to make sure he's not planning on hurting her.”

“Hurting her? You think Professor Hamel's going to hurt her?”

“I don't know.” he confessed. “But you should know better than anyone we can't trust him.”

Lysandra softened, looking at her shoes. “Yeah. We can't.”

“I know you're friends with her, and in her year. You'll keep an eye on her?”

“Done.” said Lysandra. “Are you going to tell me anything about your third party?”

He hesitated, and that really got her. He hesitated. Archer didn't look like he knew what to do. “No. Not...now.”

“Okay.” she said. “But you _can't_ tell Nehemia about me.”

“Who said anything about Nehemia?”

Lysandra rolled her eyes. “Do I look blind? She's working with your third party too, yeah? You can't tell her about me, where I come from. All information I give you goes to her anonymous.”

“Done.” he said. “She doesn't exactly know about me, either.”

“Oh,” said Lys, surprised. “Okay. Alright.”

Archer nodded, suddenly awkward. "So we're done, here?"

"Yeah." said Lysandra, picking up her bag. "We're done."

* * *

(The Roots)

"Dorian said I should talk to you about Ashryver."

Aelin looked up at Chaol, who was standing awkwardly by her table in the library. "Did he, now?"

"Yeah." Chaol shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot before Aelin rolled her eyes and waved a hand for him to sit. Sighing, she put her book away.

"Okay, let's hear it."

Now sitting, Chaol leaned back and folded his arms. "Honestly, I'm not sure what I should say."

"Neither do I." admitted Aelin. "Well, what did you say to Ashryver? Dorian said it was effective."

"Dorian was the effective one there." said Chaol. He twisted his mouth. "Let me think. I, uh..."

"What?"

"I may have called you a drama queen a couple times. I think that worked."

Aelin made a face at him.

"So," continued Chaol. "If we continue on that vein, I guess we should call Ashryver a drama queen a bit?"

"He  _is_." 

"Alright, good. We've done that now. Has it worked?"

Aelin shook her head. "No, I'm still mad."

"Ah, it was worth a shot." Chaol furrowed his brow thinking hard. "Oh! I remember!"

"Okay?"

"Alright, listen. You know you could get your cousin back with a word, right? Maybe two?" at her (reluctant) nod, Chaol pressed on. "Okay. So, because of  _logic_ , since you're  _not_ getting him back you are blowing this whole situation up out of proportion!"

"It's not out of proportion." said Aelin sharply. "He called  _your_ best friend a terrorist!"

"That is  _not_ what this is about, A." said Chaol. "Come on. Why are you really mad?"

"Why am I-"

"It's not about Dorian. Dorian's forgiven him. So why are you still pissed?"

Aelin was seeing red now. How could she explain? How could she possibly explain? "Chaol." she said, warning in her voice. "I'm done with this." Her mind echoed with the memory of that day in the library, of the initial blow up. Everything that had happened since then had gone so wrong.

_"He's a vicious monster."_

Her fellow Gryffindor leaned closer to her. "You may as well tell me."

_"It's in his blood to kill people, whether by law or, like his father, at wand point."_

She closed her eyes. "No."

_"I knew it wasn't safe for you to be friends with him."_

"Why the heck not?"

_"You think Dorian Havilliard somehow skipped the terrorism gene? "_

"Because."

_"Are you really that naive?"_

" _Not_ a good answer, Aelin!"

_"Because one day, if you're not careful, that boy you call your friend is going to put me in an early grave."_

"Does it look like I care?"

_"And the way you're going- "_

"Aelin." snapped Chaol. "You're just being  _stubborn_ now, that's what this is-"

"- _you're going to let him!"_

"He _blamed_ _me_ , Chaol!" yelled Aelin, finally done. At the end of her rope. You're going to let him, she thought furiously. To _let_ him. "That's it! He blamed me,  _me_ , his bloody  _cousin_ , for everything he thought Dorian would ever do. Every hangnail he might cause. Like it was my heavenly duty to stop him! Like by being friends with him I was suddenly okay with everything his father stood for. Like I was a different person."

She sucked in a deep breath. "So there, so fine.  _He's_ apologizing first, for making his eleven year old cousin feel like garbage. Like an adult. And that's just not fair, Chaol, it's not fair of him to do that to me. Telling me it was my responsibility, everything Dorian did. My _friend_. And not only him, but his father too. Aedion had his reasons for his reaction, and I know them cause I know him like the back of my damn hand, but it  _can't_ excuse him!"

Chaol listened quite patiently through her whole speech, and though her eyes were considerably more watery than before, he did the gentlemanly thing and pretended not to notice. "Do you think he meant it?" he asked in a serious voice.

Aelin looked up miserably. "Maybe?"

"Maybe." said Chaol, thinking very hard. "A, you know him better than anyone."  _Like the back of her damn hand_. "If you think he meant it, then he did. But saying something like that to you can't have been real. I'm not saying you're wrong, but haven't you ever spoken without thinking?"

"This felt different." she said. "He was...mad. Madder. It wasn't right."

Chaol deflated a little. "Okay. If you say so."

But now that she was talking about it, Aelin felt as though she couldn't stop. "I mean, Adarlan is taboo with him. Always will be. I know we-the three of us-talk about how awful Dorian's dad's politics are all the time, but I can never  _never_ speak of it to my cousin. But I never thought he'd attack Dorian, especially after he got to know him."

"He thought Dorian was alright, right?"

"Yeah! He was iffy in the beginning, but at least by Christmas he was fine with Dorian being around me."

"Aelin..." Chaol sighed. "Honest opinion?"

"Yeah, hit me."

"You're both bloody stubborn as all hell, and the literal only reason there's still this  _thing_ happening is because neither of you are making the first move."

"That's a theory." said Aelin weakly.

Chaol gave her a dry look.

"Okay." said Aelin, holding her hands up. "Okay. But what on earth can I do about it?"

"A bunch, depending on what outcome you want."

"Helpful. Thanks."

"Anytime, A."

* * *

 

 (Summer, Summer)

Dorian, Chaol and Aelin headed out one afternoon to sit by the lake again, this time with a picnic blanket and some napkin wrapped sandwiches. 

" A perfect day." exclaimed Aelin, sitting grandly by the not so squishy area by the banks. "Lunch. Good weather. Friends!"

Dorian and Chaol exchanged a look. "Aren't you enthusiastic?" said the latter.

"Very." said Aelin. "It's a good day, I'm not thinking about anything that could possibly mess with me."

"Oh," said Dorian, nodding. "Exams."

She threw him a dirty look. "Shove off, Dorian."

The Ravenclaw grinned with all his teeth. He reached over and grabbed a sandwich. 

"Yo, Aelin," started Chaol. "What about that Quidditch rematch?"

"Hm?" said Aelin. "Oh, yeah, that is soon!"

"I don't get why the rematches are always slated so late in the season." griped Chaol. "Like, suddenly Gryffindor and Slytherin playing each other is gonna be the most important match, cause it's a proper deciding match now."

"Let's tick it off." said Dorian. "Ravenclaw beat Gryffindor, who tied with Slytherin, who were absolutely demolished by Hufflepuff last week....and Ravenclaw lost to Hufflepuff as well. But Gryffindor beat Hufflepuff, and Slytherin's playing Ravenclaw later on."

"So basically, this match is going to decide who plays Hufflepuff in the final." said Chaol. "Damn, they really went for it this year."

"Hufflepuff's strong. Their defense completely threw Slytherin's whole offense situation." Dorian looked at Aelin. "What about you, A, who do you think'll win?"

"Hm?" said Aelin again, visibly distracted. "Oh. Hufflepuff, probably..."

Dorian followed her gaze across the lake, where a large group of girls were sitting and chatting. He exchanged another look with Chaol as he spotted moon bright hair and Slytherin colors. 

"Aelin." said Chaol. "Come on, she's not gonna do anything, don't bother."

"I don't know what you're talking about." said Aelin, picking up a sandwich and taking a huge, slightly petulant bite. Her voice grew louder. "Anyway, we were talking about the rematch?"

" _We_ ," said Chaol. gesturing between him and Dorian. "were talking about the rematch." 

"Yeah." said Aelin. "First of all, now that Harding's playing, there's no way Blackbeak could edge him out. He's a seventh year, and he's been on the team longer than anyone, even Kathy."

"True-" started Chaol, but Aelin immediately cut him off. 

"Slytherin's got no chance. We have the best, um, the best Chasers. And the Slytherin Keeper's a second year only."

"But he's good." said Dorian. "Really good. And really tall."

"He  _braids hair_ , Dorian. He's not gonna be a problem."

"Well,  _you_ braid hair."

"Um," Aelin paused. "Not the point. It's not just our Chasers either, Davies is the best Keeper around....well, she's better than Whitethorn anyhow."

There was some sort of commotion  across the lake. They looked up to see a group of girls, all Ironteeth, chattering excitedly as they stood. 

"What are they doing?" asked Aelin, frowning.

"Leaving?" said Chaol hopefully.

But it didn't look like they were leaving at all. Manon Blackbeak, recognizable despite the distance, walked coolly around the lake's edge to the small dock built by the forest. She climbed onto the dark wood, and clarity hit Aelin.

"Merlin." said the Gryffindor furiously. "She's gonna-"

Blackbeak dove gracefully off the edge, slicing through the water like a knife threw butter. Her witches cheered, and all rushed to join her in the water. Aelin's mouth was hanging open.

"Doesn't she know there's a squid down there?" she exclaimed. "And like, merpeople! And those things that like, grab onto your ankles and drag you down!"

"Grindylows. And I don't think she cares." said Dorian thoughtfully. "Well, that's one way to beat the heat."

"This is crazy." said Aelin. Manon resurfaced, floating on her back as the whooping first year witches joined her. Her silver hair fanned out behind her.

"She is a little unhinged, yeah." said Dorian, seeming thoroughly amused with this entire situation. Chaol was eyeing Aelin warily.

"Are  _you_ gonna do anything stupid?" he asked her.

Aelin glared at him. "Why on earth would I do anything stupid?"

Chaol pressed his lips together really hard. 

Manon Blackbeak floated vaguely close to their end of the bank, and righted herself underwater to flash a quick grin at Aelin before smoothly backstroking away.

"And people say  _I'm_ the drama queen." said Aelin darkly. 

* * *

 (Orynth, last year)

It was last year, thought Aelin. It had only happened last year, but Aedion's world has changed so dramatically the day, night, was burned into her mind. She remembered it in flashes, impressions; it had been raining. Storming, really, lightning, thunder, the whole works. 

Rain transformed Orynth (for that was where she was at the time), and not in a good way. A strange sort of gloom permeated the grounds, which was half the reason Evalin hated the deary stone walls of the castle so much. Firelight was suddenly necessary, and it too affected the stone in a creepy, dancing shadows way. 

Aelin had been nine, happy, neatly curled up against her father. He was reading, and she was too. Her book was a lot smaller than his, the print a lot bigger, but it had been about a raven haired princess who's best friend was a cat. Rhoe's book was hand written, a lot of cramped and ink smudged diagrams and pictures. 

"What's that about?" asked Aelin. The princess had just met her true love, but Aelin was skipping to the fighting parts.

"Transfiguration." said her father, squinting at the page. "Wanna see?"

Aelin pulled a face.

"Oi, that attitude is never going to get you into Ravenclaw..."

"I'm going to be a Hufflepuff." said Aelin resolutely, grinning. Rhoe burst out laughing. 

"Aelin, dear, last summer when Aedion broke the clock on the mantle you sold him out the second I said I'd buy you a new broom if you told me who did it."

"So?" said the girl innocently. 

"What's  _your_ book about then?" asked Rhoe, leaning over her shoulder. "Ah, yes,  _Enchanted Slippers_ , a classic. What's our main character up to?"

"Lillian's just met that prince." said Aelin. "She's _still_ planning on stealing a horse and fighting at the border, though."

"Good on her." said Rhoe seriously, stroking his chin. "I like to see nationalism nowadays."

"Me too. Whatever that is."

Suddenly, there was a loud bang from the main hall. Rhoe was on his feet in a second, lightning in his eyes and his wand in hand. "Aelin, stay-"

Aelin didn't have to stay anywhere. The door to the parlor was heaved open, and what was recognizable as Aelin's mother lumbered in. Her gait was uncomfortable, due to the large weight around her shoulders.

"Mum!"

Evalin was soaked from head to toe, and not just with water. Her clothes were stained with blood, and there was a rust streak across her forehead. Her eyes, strangely intense, snapped to Aelin's. She started forward. "Aelin-"

"Stay where you are." said Rhoe in a thunderous voice, wand still pointed. 

Evalin complied, softening. "It's me, Rhoe." She shrugged off the weight-it looked like a  _body_ -off her shoulders and lay it down. 

"Prove it."

"You proposed to me in Muggle London."

The Galathynius patriarch sagged with relief. "Thank god."

But Aelin had recognized the body at her mothers feet and gasped, rushing forward. She fell to her knees in front of the small form, wiping a thick mixture of blood and mud off it's- _his_ -face. " _Aedion_ _?"_

Evalin knelt. "He'll be okay, honey, it's not his blood."

Aelin looked up, horrified. "What  _happened_?"

Rhoe joined them, scooping up Aedion in his large arms. "This one needs to get dry, fast." His eyes met his wife's. "Ev?"

The tall woman wiped the blood off her forehead. Her face crinkled up in a way Aelin had never seen on her mother's face. "Rhoe-" she gasped. "I couldn't...couldn't..."

True sobs racked her body, and trembling, Evalin pressed a hand to her eyes. "Oh, Merlin." she said. "Oh, Merlin I didn't even-"

"Evalin." said Rhoe again, softer.

"I'm sorry. I'm _so_ sorry. Oh, no, no, I have to call-have to call Gal-"

Aelin was gazing at her mother like she had never seen her before. Mostly because, well, she  _hadn't_. Evalin Ashryver  _never_ cried. When she lost, she got right back up again. Her daughter looked up to her for it. But here she was, still impressively tall, but shoulders shaking, golden hair stained rust red, blue eyes practically glowing with tears against the muck on her face. She had never seen Evalin Ashryver like this.

"It was a random hit. Adarlan's men. Maybe Adarlan himself." whispered Evalin. "At least, that's what it looked like. I didn't get to look around before-" she choked off again, covering her mouth to stop a loud sob. 

Rhoe seemed to understand. He nodded gravely.

But Evalin still struggled with words. She  _had_ to say it. She  _had_ to confirm it. "Cora's dead. The servants too, the house elves, everyone in the house. Everyone except-" her eyes darted to the unconscious Aedion. 

Aelin's eyes were wide. "Aunt Cora?"

Evalin looked lost. "I need to-I need to write Galan. I need to Floo the Ministry, I need to-"

"Take a shower." said Rhoe firmly. "Aelin, take your mother upstairs please."

She did as she was told for once, linking her arm in her mother's and all but dragging her upstairs. Rhoe, still carrying his nephew, went in the other direction, presumably to clean him off.

The next morning, the shock was still fresh. Evalin spoke only in quiet, muted tones. She made eye contact with no one.

And Aedion? When Aedion woke, Aelin at his bedside, he bolted into a sitting position and  _screamed_. 

* * *

 (Fly)

_I have to speak to Aedion._

It was one of the only thoughts in her mind as Aelin sat high in the rafters of the Quidditch stadium.

 _I have to speak to Aedion. I have to talk to him_.

She lay flat on the metal bench, looking at the clear blue sky. It was still too hot for words, but from a purely aesthetic view, the blue  _did_ look nice against the gold of the Quidditch hoops and the puffy white of the clouds. Damn, she wanted to  _fly._

And then it was as if the clouds heard her wish...and decided to send over the exact opposite. 

Aelin saw a streak of gray-silver pass above her, and it took her a second to recognize Manon in plain robes, doing laps so quickly Aelin was almost dizzy. She sat up, watching the streak whirl around, feeling nothing but bitter.

High above her, Manon did loops and sharp, dangerous turns. She seemed not to care, not to have rhyme or rhythm. She was just flying. 

Alright,  _that_ Aelin could respect. She wished first years ( _normal_ first years) were allowed brooms. But in her reviere, Manon had noticed her, and had taken off at breakneck speeds towards her area of the stands. Aelin made a face, and flopped back down to lay on the bench.

Manon smoothly landed and dismounted in a crisp movement. "Stalking me, Galathynius?"

"You wish, Blackbeak." drawled Aelin. She pillowed her head with her interlaced palms, arms behind her head. "What do you want?"

The Slytherin plopped down on the bench above hers. "Nothing. I just saw you here."

"Who's stalking who, now?"

"Very funny." Manon eyed her. "Why are you out here?"

"What do you mean?"

"You've got friends for days. Aren't they missing your constant need for validation?" asked Manon, voice sickly sweet.

"Ooh, hon." crooned Aelin. "And what about your cult-legion of dark followers? Did they get tired of hanging out with someone who has less personality than an Inferi?"

There was a beat where Manon processed this. "Okay," she shrugged finally. 

"Yeah." said Aelin. 

"Really, though." pressed the Slytherin. "I haven't seen you  _alone_ in...ever."

"Your curiosity means so much to me." said Aelin dryly. "I just wanted to get away. For a bit."

Manon pressed her lips together. "Me...too." she said slowly.

Aelin looked up at her. "Oh, drat, I thought I was special."

"Shut up." said Manon, kicking her lightly with a booted foot. "I'd think it's too hot for you to be contrary."

"Hm, I'm always contrary. Even more so in the heat."

"No  _wonder_ your friends have left."

"Perhaps your personality  _doesn't_ resemble Inferi. More like...grindylows. Or kappas. I think you'd like dragging travelers down to watery graves."

"Yes." said Manon. "Why the pitch?"

"I love Quidditch." said Aelin simply. 

"Me too." said Manon again. "I..." she seemed to be struggling with something. Aelin propped herself up on her elbows, staring at her.

"You choking, Blackbeak?"

" _No._ " glared the Ironteeth witch. "I was going to ask if you'd like to fly. With me. Now."

Aelin always thought nothing could surprise her. She was getting proved wrong more and more often.

* * *

 

(Brilliant)

"Chaol. That's  _brilliant_."

"Isn't it? Isn't it?"

Dorian and Chaol were pressed to a corner of the stone castle, grinning madly at each other. 

"I mean, how did you think of that? How did I not think of that?" wondered Dorian, breathless. "My Merlin, can you imagine their faces? When they notice?"

"I  _know_. And Aelin-"

"-going to be  _so pissed_ , oh my god." 

Chaol nodded frantically. "We've got to do this."

"But..." Dorian was thinking about it, logistically. "We don't know any magic that could even make that happen a little bit."

"We have time. We can do this."

"The Quidditch game is tomorrow, Chaol."

"We can do this." said Chaol, nodding furiously. "We just need an upperclassman who knmows the magic for it."

"But who?" Dorian wondered. "Who on earth has a sense of humor like  _that_ _?"_

* * *

 (Foul Play)

" _Alright!"_ cried out the voice from the commentator's box. "Gearin' up for one of the most  _important_ matches of the season-"

Kathy Davies tuned out the noise and turned to her team in the locker rooms. "Guys-"

"Kick ass." droned the Gryffindor team in unison. 

"Okay, honestly? That is so rude. Let me finish."

"Sorry, Cap." said Harding.

Kathy flipped him off before turning to the rest of the team. "Alright, we've been working too hard to miss this one. We need to get to finals." she began to pace. "I mean-oi, Harding, it's your last year, don't you want to win?"

The Seeker grinned. "Yeah."

"Then get serious!" Kathy whirled onto the team. "I don't have words for you. My only advice is to  _do your job_. We're the best players in the school and we know it, so we're not going to let Roland bloody Auslese tear us apart. Okay?"

"Yes, Captain!" said the team.

"Alright!" she yelled back, thrusting a fist in the air. "Let's kick some ass!"

* * *

 (Don't Hurt Yourself)

"Alright!" said the commentator, fourth year Gryffindor Verin Ysslych. An awfully fake smile was pasted on his face. "So! It's been three hours!"

Kathy dipped a little lower. The Quaffle was in Slytherin possession, but if the way Kas and Cain were tailing Gavin Auslese let Kathy know this; not for long. 

Now, if only that  _damned_ commentator would stop distracting her.

"Now, I know Blackbeak's kinda new at this, and especially after Hufflepuff Nehemia Ytger downright destroyed her last game, but Harding? Really? Find the damn snitch!" said Verin, someone who was obviously not used to long games.

Harding was circling above them all, high above the action. Gavin passed to his brother Roland, who dropped the Quaffle down to Archer Finn. The Gryffindor Chasers were ready for this, however, and a tight handle from Sol and Cain allowed Kasida to claim the Quaffle and dart past the Slytherin Chasers, towards their goals.

Kasida pitches her arm back to shoot, but pulls back at the last second to avoid a Bludger to the shoulder. The two second lag was enough for the Slytherins to catch up, and the Auslese brothers cornered her, forcing her to pass to Sol. He caught the ball, trying to weave past the Auslese defense, but the Slytherin Beaters were laying it on hard. To compensate, Lyria Fioriture and Ress dove into the fray, viciously warding off Bludgers from their players.

"This is a mess." Kathy muttered, watching. As Harding looped up above her, she called out to him. "Oi, Harding? The hell are you doing?"

The Seeker flew down to her. "The Snitch is  _nowhere_." he hissed. "I'm not even being dramatic. Look at Blackbeak, she can't find it either."

Kathy looked for the silver girl, high above the match. She looked pissed. "You haven't sighted it  _once_ :? The entire game?"

He shook his head.

The captain blinked. "Stay here."

"Kathy- _what_?"

"I...will figure something out. Stay right here."

Harding was staring at her like he had never seen her before. She sent him a withering look until he took a basic defense position.

'Good." she said, cracking her neck. "Okay. Don't let any shots in."

"Jesus bloody hell." said Harding darkly, but he complied. 

And then, Kathy did what she never thought she would do again, in her Hogwarts career. She flew beyond the goal zone. 

Verin seemed to notice something was happening. "Hold on a minute! It looks like Gryffindor Seeker Harding has, um,  _switched places_ with Keeper Davies!" and then, in a smaller voice: "Is that even allowed?"

"Who cares?" yelled Kathy, flying full tilt into the sky, to where another cirlcing Seeker was. "Oi!" she yelled when she got close enough. "Blackbeak!"

Manon Blackbeak didn't even spare her a glance, didn't even take her scanning eyes off the  game. Kathy had to fly right up to her for her to even stop.

"What is your problem?" asked Manon, glaring.

"Have you seen the snitch?" demanded Kathy.

"What?"

"Are the Slytherin Seeker and the Gryffindor Captain really having a  _conversation_ up there?" yelled Verin.

"Have you even seen it? Once?" asked Kathy furiously, flying along side her. "Because Harding isn't an amateur, no offense, and Seeker was the first position I ever played, and neither of us have seen it. So if you've spotted it, which I doubt considering the lack of dives you've made, tell me so I can let the game go on."

Manon stared at her in disbelief. Beneath them, the raging battle for the Quaffle continued. "Oh, Merlin."

Kathy's jaw dropped. "Seriously?"

The seeker nodded.

Kathy turned tail, flying furiously down to the center of the pitch. "Time out!" she screamed. Quidditch Master Brullo flew up to her, looking annoyed.

"Davies, what are you doing?"

"Where the hell is the snitch?" she yelled at him.

"Your seekers are supposed to tell  _me_ that!"

Kathy rolled her eyes. "Try Summoning it! Or anything. It's  _not here_."

Brullo frowned. "That's ridiculous."

"Try it. Please."

The Quidditch Master sighed. "Time!" he bellowed. Kathy folded her arms, waiting. Slytherin captain Roland Auslese flew over to them.

"What's happening?" he asked, frowning.

"Just wait." said Kathy. 

Brullo sighed again, before pulling out his wand and casting a nonverbal Summoning charm. They all waited for a minute, and nothing happened. The wind whistled. Kathy's derision became almost audible.

"Alright then." said Brullo after another beat. He cast another spell.

"Can anyone let us know what's going on down there?" yelled Verin. Kathy flipped him off. "Bloody  _rude_ , Davies!"

The Quidditch Master tried again. 

"Do you see?" asked Kathy.

Roland looked confused. "Davies, what?"

"There's no Snitch." she said.

"What?"

"There's no Snitch." she said again.

"But I saw it released!"

"Yeah." said Kathy. "And then in vanished. Or, rather, Vanished."

Brullo put his face in his hands.

Beater Lyria, having taken pity on Verin, flew up to the commentator's booth and quietly explained what was happened. The fourth year regained his upset immediately. "Oh, Merlin, really? Alright, Hogwarts! Guess what! We just spent the last three hours waiting for someone to find the bloody Snitch! Guess what? It's not here!"

Boos began to echo from the crowd.

Kathy waited patiently for Brullo to lift his face. "Brullo, listen. We can't play another rematch. It can't fit into the season."

"I know." he said in a gruff voice.

"We could both play Hufflepuff." said Roland.

"No, that's the same number of games." said Kathy. She glanced around at the yelling crowd. "Oh, um, can we do this inside."

"This is being settled!" roared Brullo suddenly. "Now."

The crowd quieted.

Brullo looked up, eyes flashing. "I'm putting a ten minute time limit on this game. Whoever has the highest score at the end of the game wins."

Kathy's eyes widened, and she and Roland exchanged a panicked glance before shooting away from the Quidditch Master. She flew so fast it brought tears to her eyes, screeching to a stop in front of the hoops.

"Harding!" she yelled. Across the pitch, Roland and his Chasers were gearing up. "Go direct my team!"

Harding shot off with the flair of a seventh year player. The rest of the teams began to understand exactly what was happening, and the crowd was going wild. Kathy had never seen her Chasers regroup so quickly before, but there they were. Kasida was at point, Sol and Cain flanking her. Slightly above them and winging out flew Lyria and Ress, twirling their bats and looking downright dangerous.

The Slytherins formed up similarly.  Manon Blackbeak was flying behind their traditional triangle formation, evidently acting as a Chaser. 

Kathy tightened her gloves, clapping her hands together several times to make sure of her grip. "Let's do this!" 

Brullo blew his whistle loudly, and the Quaffle went up, and they were in play.

Hogwarts had never seen a match so dirty.

Lyria had abandoned fair play first, somehow beautifully spinning directly into Roland Auslese as he held the Quaffle. "Sorry!" she yelled, pretending her bat hadn't landed exactly where she aimed it-his funny bone. He dropped the ball, swearing.

Harding was next. He was also accepted passes as a Chaser, but as the Gryffindor Chasing team was so uniform he didn't really need to be involved. Instead he blinded the Slytherins with tricky flying. Dives that pulled out at the last moment, until every player thought he would crash into them until he pulled away. The suddenly unfocused players had enough lag time that the rest of the Gryffindor team descended on them like vultures.

Kathy was the angriest, though. Every time someone took a shot at her, she screamed. Once when Roland shot the Quaffle at her, she caught it, yelled, and then chucked it so hard at him it rebounded off his head and back towards the goal. She caught it again.

The Slytherins weren't much better. Roland took revenge on Lyria by practically driving her into the commentator's booth. The Beaters, Benzo and Kellan, viciously double teamed the Chasing team until Kas could barely pass. Their bats slammed into ribs and elbows, hardly discriminating between teams. 

Rowan Whitethorn was refreshingly clean of a player, but after Lyria Fioriture sent a Bludger directly at his head, he began chucking Quaffles  _really hard_ at her, despite his job to send them back to his Chasers. This distraction was probablt why Kasida and Sol sunk two goals in against him.

It was less of a gamer and more of a fistfight. Also, Brullo was refusing to halt the timer to call fouls.

Verin Ysslych was practically foaming at the mouth trying to keep up. "Oppel fires a Bludger at-nope, Ress blocked that, but  _ouch!_ He didn't block whatever the hell Gavin Auslese just threw at him. Archer Finn approaches the goals-nope, Davies stops it, fires it right back at him, Merlin, I think that  _broke his nose_. Fioriture swings her bat directly at Doneval's head-there wasn't even a Bludger there, girl! Chaser Kasida stops to wipe  _blood_ off her face before getting  _beamed in the face with the Quaffle!_ To her credit, she catches the ball and passes to Sol, who passes to-" and so on.

The scorekeeper next to Verin was doing her best, but wasn't succeeding very much. 

"Three hundred thirty to three hundred ten, Gryffindor!" yelled Verin. Less than two minutes later, he yelled again: "Three hundred forty to three hundred thirty nine! For Gryff-no! Three hundred forty even!"

Kathy screamed out a swear word as that last goal went past her. Roland, opposite her, would've been smirking if his face hadn't been so bruised he looked like a rotting banana skin. Kathy filed that one away for later, when she had the breath to send out real insults. 

The Gryffindor team was getting dangerously desperate. At eight minutes and thirty six seconds into their ten minute game, Lyria stood up on her broom and  _jumped_ off it to hit the Bludger directly into Gavin Auslese's shoulder. Harding shot beneath her, catching her and depositing her back to her broom before she lost her rhythm. Kasida Sloth-Roll-Gripped her broom so dramatically she was hanging upside down by her ankles to take a shot. Sol and Cain were flying and passing so fast the Quaffle barely touched their fingers before it was redirected. 

"A six! We're running a six!" yelled Kathy, her breath dangerously shallow. The team complied, but the play only lasted a second. They were literally running on fumes now, Slytherin included, but were playing harder than anything. It was hard to give up after being hit in the face-you just feel like you have something to prove now. "Eighty eight!"

She stopped another shot, this one a surprisingly fast one from Manon Blackbeak. The witch's silver hair had come completely undone, and was fluttering around her head like a halo. Kathy's eyes narrowed, and she sent the Quaffle directly into Sol's waiting hands. Manon flew back, acting a lot like Harding was. She had the fastest broom, was the quickest flyer of most of the players present. Her feints and quick changes were killing the Gryffindor defense. 

Kathy felt her heartbeat thud in her chest, faster and faster. That, she thought, was  _probably_ unhealthy. The sweat in her eyes was stinging, but she couldn't take her eyes off the game to blink it out for even a second.

Nine minutes and three seconds. Less than a minute left. 

The Gryffindor Chasers blurred in front of her eyes, flying so fast Kathy could barely focus on them. And then, suddenly, Slytherin had the ball, and they were getting closer, and her arms felt like lead, too heavy to move-

The Quaffle collided with her forehead, and Kathy saw stars. Her skull stopped the ball in its tracks, but the recoil forced her back. Kathy caught the ball as it fell into her hands through instinct. 

"Ah." she said, feeling a bruise blossom. And then, suddenly, she wasn't tired anymore. Kathy look up slowly, at her waiting and wary team. She made eye contact with Roland Auslese, who had thrown the ball. He paled. 

There was just  _something_ about getting hit in the face.

Rage screwed up her features. Kathy tossed the ball up high, before dropping and swinging off her broom. She kicked the Quaffle so hard it shot past the amassed teams. Rowan Whitethorn was staring at it, mouth agape, before scrambling to get into position when he realized it may actually reach the hoops. 

It did. Whitethorn's fingers skimmed the leather Quaffle, but didn't stop it from shooting through the middle hoop.

There was silence from both Gryffindor and Slytherin teams. Neither moved, choosing instead to stare in disbelief at the Quaffle. 

Kathy, breathing hard, swung back onto her broom. "Ha." she wheezed. "Ha, ha."

The time had run out. Brullo blew his whistle. 

"Gryffindor wins." said Verin, surprisingly calm. "If I ever find out the asshole who stole the bloody Snitch, I'm going to kill them."

* * *

 

(The Assholes Who Stole the Snitch)

They met in the kitchens. Dorian and Chaol were first,  edgily shifting from foot to foot. 

"If anyone finds out-"

"Okay, it was a little bloodier than we thought it would be.' said Chaol weakly.

"Merlin, you have awful ideas." said Dorian. 

The door opened, and the first years tensed up before seeing who walked in. "Oh," said Chaol, relaxing. "Hey, Nehemia."

Nehemia Ytger smiled prettily. "Hello, Dorian, Chaol. How are you?"

"Alright?" said Chaol. "You?"

"Pretty good." said Nehemia. "But, well. That Quidditch game really was something, wasn't it?"

"I honestly can't describe it." said Dorian.

Nehemia winked at him. "Good answer. Anyway, I just came for some hot chocolate-"

Almost as soon as she said the words, a house elf pressed a steaming mug into her knee. Nehemia smiled, kneeling down by the elf and thanking it kindly like a strange, witch Snow White. Dorian and Chaol exchanged a look. 

"Well, I guess I got what I came for." said the Hufflepuff. "Don't stay up too late, you two!"

"Of course, Nehemia." said Chaol weakly. 

Nehemia turned, waving with her free hand. She stopped just at the door. "Oh! I forgot."

She shoved a hand in her robe pocket and pulled out a quivering Golden Snitch. "Here, a prize."

Chaol caught the snitch after she tossed it at him. 

"It was a good idea, boys, I'm happy you came to me." said Nehemia cheerfully. "Tricky spell, but hey. What's a little fun between friends?"

* * *

(Cause You and Me Could Move a Mountain)

Both Quidditch teams ended up in the hospital wing, with many head injuries and a couple of cracked ribs each. But, in Gryffindor tower, a massive party raged in their honor. 

The underclassmen were allowed for a while, so Aelin, Dorian, and Chaol also ate and drank (pumpkin juice) with the rest for a time. They were under no false assumption that there  _wasn't_ alcohol stashed, just waiting until everyone under fourteen went up to bed. 

"That was awesome." Aelin was saying to Nesryn. The reserve seeker looked aghast.

"That was terrifying!" she said. "Literally all of them are somehow hurt, because they couldn't take out the time to send out substitutes!"

"Oh, you're just sore you didn't get to play." said Aelin fondly. "Quidditch without a snitch though...who could have Vanished it?"

"A loser." said Nesryn sourly. Aelin supposed when the one ball you played disappeared, you got sore too. If the Quaffle suddenly vanished...

And yet, speaking of reserves-

Aelin found her cousin sitting with some second years, looking as though he shared Nesryn's foul mood. She watched him silently, considering every angle, approach.

"Just do it." said Nesryn quietly, following her gaze. "It'll be easier once you start."

"Yeah." said Aelin softly. "I guess."

_"I mean, I chose Gryffindor for a reason."_

Was this right? Because he hadn't been, she still knew that. He wasn't right, about Dorian, about her. And yet...

_"I missed you too, Aelin."_

And then, she was moving without thinking. Step after step. This was okay. It would be okay.

"Hey."

Aedion looked up at her in surprise. "What?"

Aelin shifted her weight, looking coolly disinterested. "I just wanted to let you know Mum and Dad invited you over for summer break."

He frowned. "Didn't you tell them-"

"It's your choice."

 "So." said Aedion slowly. "You don't have a problem with it. Is what you're saying."

"Yeah." said Aelin. "I guess it is."

His eyes widened. "Aelin-"

"You weren't right." she said in a rush. "You  _weren't_. Dorian is my friend, always will be. You were wrong, but everyone's wrong sometimes so I'm okay with that. With you. Being wrong."

"Everyone's wrong sometimes?" asked Aedion. At her nod, he continued. "Then I hope you're not about this."

Aelin stiffened.

"But I was wrong." said Aedion, more genuine. "I was..."

"Doesn't matter." said Aelin. "Whatever. It happened. It's over now, right?"

"Right."

A heavy weight fell from her shoulders, and Aelin almost felt tears prick up in her eyes. "Okay." she whispered. 

Then, the moment died. Aelin grinned, plopping down next to him. "That  _game_ , right?"

"Right! Do you know who stole the snitch? I'm trying to figure it out."

"I've got no clue! Oi, listen, you'll never  _believe_ who I flew with last week..."

"That reminds me, Nehemia said something the other day.."

They continued in that fashion for some time, grinning like fools and talking over each other. Still, while understanding everything the other was trying to say. 

As the underclassmen were being ferried upstairs so the party could become, Aelin turned to Aedion, and in a moment of real honestly said, "I missed you every day."

"I missed you too, Aelin."

  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there were supposed to be three more scenes in this but it's 1:30 in the morning i haven't slept in 36 hours (that finals grind amirite) and it's 35 pages??? how does this keep happening??
> 
> other news: have y'all heard lemonade? it's getting me through my life tbh it's so good, hence half the titles in this chapter. 
> 
>  
> 
> reviews are more ghislaine, because i still think it's weird/cool how many people messaged me telling me she's their fave


	11. Saturday, June 13th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Okay," said Rhoe lightly. "Shall we begin?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously, on PLTLWM: Rhoe and Ev have to vote on the new King of Terrasen, but they know it'll impact their relationship with each other and Aelin. It's a sucky job and neither of them want it. Adarlan has done terrible things like unfairly deport minorities and try to do the whole slavery thing again, especially to people Nehemia cares about. Nehemia stood up to Adarlan at the Erilean Wizarding Conference and blew everyone's mind, especially considering she's literally like fourteen. Aelin has exams. 
> 
> QUICK NOTE: this is a kinda confusing chapter cause it's not consecutive, but pay attention to the time stamps and u should be fine. This is all over one day, June 13th.

**Chapter 11- Saturday, June 13th**

or

"Election Day"

_12:00 am:_

Rhoe Galathynius sits down. Every seat in the bunker is full. There is candlelight, not weak lighting, but strong fire glinting off the steel and stone room. Said candlelight casts strange shadows over each of their faces, and Rhoe studies them all carefully. 

Cal and Marion, faces tight and strong, still dressed for work in the Ministry. Khadija, a witch in her fifties with creased brown skin, from Suria. Murtaugh Allsbrook, representing his own lands. Rena and Lissea, the sisters from Rosamel. Rey, from the northern region of the Anascauls. And, directly across from him, his wife. From Orynth and Wendlyn. 

The fully assembled court of Terrasen was a terrifying thing to behold. In one room, the amount of political power held was immense. In two words, Khadija could topple the economies of several principalities, Adarlan included. Rey, the youngest on the court, was known for her fighters. Rena and Lissea had more Wendlyn connections than almost anyone, and they held the ear of the Ministry very tightly. And  _no one_ knew where Murtaugh got his information from, but he held the intel of Erilea easily.

Evalin Ashryver, the woman who at eighteen, had furiously campaigned against Queen Maeve herself, and who was probably the most renowned politician in the country. 

Perranth, Suria, Rosamel, Allsbrook, the Anascauls. And Orynth.

"Okay," said Rhoe lightly. "Shall we begin?"

* * *

 

(Correspondence, again)

_Aelin,_

_How are you? We haven't heard from you in a while...yes, love, I can read your response. Yes, you were just here for break, yes, you'll be coming home soon. Isn't it strange, how fast the year passed?_

_It was at snail's pace for your father and I, of course. I suppose we simply aren't used to you being away for so long._

_Ah, wasted words in May, right?_

_Alright, let's channel your father for a moment. What would Rhoe say: oh, he'd ask about exams. So, those are getting pretty close! Do you feel secure in your studies? If not, I'm sure that nice Nehemia can help you out. I do like her, as I'm sure I've mentioned. I'm still not over her address to Adarlan at the EWC. Very raw, very passionate, but cool enough that you were left wondering what kind of rage she really had underneath. Now, that's a talent you should learn from her. Not that you'll go into politics (Merlin, please do not go into politics), but it'll be useful no matter the job field. _

_Question: do you still want to play professional Quidditch? That sounds like a lovely career. Please do that._

_Anyway, study hard. You've always been bright at studies, so your father and I aren't worried, but these years-first, second, third year-these years are very important for establishing basic knowledge. So study for studying's sake, is what I'm saying._

_Here, I've truly channeled your father. Goodness, a Ravenclaw's rubbed off on me. No, won't allow it, let's do more Gryffindor subjects. You're still doing the Quidditch team next year? I'm sure Aedion needs some help up there._

_As for Aedion, I've been detecting a little iciness in the way you referred to him lately. And by that, I mean in the way you haven't referred to him. I hope all's well on that front._

_Totally unrelated, your aunt Rena's having a concert in Fenharrow this summer! She wants to know if you'd like to come. What do you think, Fenharrow family vacation? Get back to me on that._

_Alright, I've got some stuff to tie up, so I'll sign off._

_All my love,_

_Mum_

* * *

 

_Daughter,_

_You won't believe this. Evalin's in the other room, writing her letter (and she thinks I'm doing the same. I suppose I am, actually, as this constitutes as part of the letter-oh, it's fine) and I just know she's telling you about the Rena concert. You know, she specifically_ _asked me to keep it a surprise? This is just like with the Harpies! Well, here, our family friend Rena Goldsmith wants us to go to Fenharrow, and I do hope you open this letter first. That should teach your mum to constantly take the mickey out of me._

_Now that the sordid Rena business is out of the way, we can get to the actual contents of this piece. Here go's, but I'm foregoing the usual 'I miss and love you, you're growing up so big, can't wait till you're home' stuff. You know we love you. You know we've got a calendar counting the days till you come back. So let's get straight to the important parts._

_Daily Politics Report: Guess who invited us to dinner next month? Get this-Clotho Blackbeak. Right? We're a little confused too, but it looks like the Western Wastes have finally chosen a side. Hopefully they've decided that despite their similarities to Adarlan (genocide, elitism), Terrasen has more to offer them on account of our endorsing the old magic. The Ironteeth witches have always been part of the old ways, at least. We've heard they invited Lee Kavill as well, so there's Fenharrow. Signs are good. We were wondering if your friend Nehemia or her parents had received an invitation, actually. To be honest, I doubt it. Clotho isn't exactly very forthcoming with minors. Probably thinks your girl Nehemia isn't much of an influence yet._

_I can sense your confusion from here, Aelin._

_Alright. So we (the court, your mother and I) may be...campaigning? Of sorts? We certainly can't let Havilliard take the Minister's seat, that's for sure. Even if it's just the British Ministry, a lot of the Erilean countries are weighing in  now. After all, it's the Wastes in Asia who are going to have to deal with British trade, and Adarlan banning certain magical artifacts is gotta rub them the wrong way. Fenharrow and Eyllwe have that whole racism thing happening with Adarlan, so they're very against it. But Melisande? The Dead Islands? Who knows where they'll swing._

_Don't misunderstand, Ace. I don't want you to worry about all of this right now, but I do think it's important to keep you updated. And if your friend Dorian needs any help this summer, he has only to write. Alright?_

_The courts meeting in a bit, hon, so I'll have to go. Send me a full report on the mundane things in your life, your exams, your friends, Aedion, and I promise my next letter will be equally droll._

_Love you, always and forever,_

_Rhoe Galathynius_

* * *

 

(Privileged, Pretty, Prefect)

_8:30 am:_

The Hufflepuff fourth year dormitory was blissfully empty. Nehemia Ytger sat at her desk, pensive, a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ in front of her. She licked her lips and sharply cracked her neck, trying to prepare. Trying to figure out what could be done from her desk at Hogwarts. A heavy parchment envelope, already ripped open and its letter burned after Nehemia had committed it to memory, rested on the bed behind her.

Adarlan was campaigning hard. On the front page of the paper was a photo of him, glaring up at the camera and occasionally turning his head this way and that. His black and white eyes were slate cold, and never seemed to move from the reader's face. He made her sick. 

A quill was on the desk as well, calling to her. Her inkpot was open, the smell of the stuff wafting out. She had always though ink had a rather pervasive smell. A half hour writing with quill and ink made one smell like the stuff for a full day. Nehemia absentmindedly dipped a fingernail into the pot, bringing it out black, and pressed it against the paper above Adarlan's mouth. She swept her nail away, and grinned. It now looked like the politician had a mustache.  

It was the small things, really. 

Nehemia neatly propped up the paper against the wall on her desk, so she could see it while she wrote. The moving photo of Adarlan continued to level her with his icy stare, only a little abated by the black mustache she had added, but her gaze drifted lower. Her hands, spread wide on the nut brown desk, splayed, pressing down hard until her gold rings cut into her flesh. Nehemia studied those hands, perfect smooth skin, albeit the white marks left by her rings. She could feel the wood pressing to the very slight callouses on her palms, from her wand. 

The girl swallowed. Her unmarked hands were the perfect indicator-she hadn't done physical work one day in her life.  _Princess,_ they called her. Privileged. Pretty. Perfect. The thing was, Nehemia was suddenly very aware of her own powerlessness. She was a fourteen year old girl, stuck in school, while men who ruined her people's lives run amok on the outside. She had no way of helping them from here, no affect on the world outside of Hogwarts. Sure,  _here_ she was the lovely girl who helped everyone with their homework and played excellent Quidditch, but that meant nothing to the struggle her colleagues were facing. 

Nehemia suddenly yanked open a drawer, pulling out a thick folder of  _Prophet_ clippings and articles. She shifted through the many Adarlan-related titles before fishing out the creased coverage of the EWC. 

Everything had been on file, a complete transcript of the conference. It was available to the public if they wanted it. But the newspaper coverage only contained highlights and the general gist of everyone's argument. Aside from the opening statements, which were printed in full, the  _Prophet_ rarely printed any direct quotes. 

And yet this article contained every single thing Nehemia had said that day. 

_"Except we're not talking about Britain. This council wasn't designed to just talk about Britain. Erilea is worldwide."_

 Her opening statement had been short as compared to say, Evalin Ashryver or Lee Kavill's, but it was direct and to the point. Practiced, controlled. Privileged, pretty, perfect. It had to have been, considering that Nehemia and about three other people had a hand in writing it. Not speech writers, per say, but Murtaugh Allsbrook had been very clear that she was at the EWC as an observer only, and helped structure her introduction to reflect that. 

And yet, thought Nehemia, fingers running down the page. And yet, the paper had printed every word she had spoken in brimstone and anger, when she had snapped at Adarlan. Every word. 

_"Yes, Banjali's in South Africa, where we have our own culture, our own magic, our own way of life. What you, sir, are doing with Calaculla not only promotes actual _slavery_ , it also promotes a kind of colonialism I cannot let seep into my people."_

Was that power? Was that what power felt like? Was that what Aelin's family felt like every time they opened their mouths? Because honestly, it felt so  _prep school_. It felt like a verbal dressing down, a la Manon Blackbeak, she supposed. But with facts. Ah, there, the secret of the debate. 

But that wasn't the point-the point was that Nehemia, in anger and with impulsive, completely unrehearsed words, made the front page of the paper. She made a difference. She  _fought back_.

That was a power that she had. Her words against the world. 

Briskly, Nehemia tucked away her papers and slammed them back into the drawer. She removed a sheaf of parchment from her desk and smoothed it down. A quill was dunked into ink and poised over the creamy white surface. A drop of black splashed on the parchment as she paused to breathe. Nehemia was privileged-she was alive, at least, that was enough right now. But the biggest charities and the greatest good deeds were established on the shoulders of billionaires giving back. And there was nothing inherently  _wrong_ about being pretty. Perfection, she knew was subjective, but when it pertained to power...that was an identifier she wanted to hear in reference to herself more often. Privileged, pretty, perfect. And powerful.

"Okay," she said aloud, grateful she was alone. "Okay. I can do this."

Inspiration struck, and Nehemia began to write.

* * *

 (Formula for Success)

_10:00 am:_

 As the heat of June began to settle comfortably around everyone's skin, the entirety of Hogwarts turned their attentions to exams. 

Final exams worked simply for the first years and most of the underclassmen. They simply had two exams a day for the week leading up to their departure from school. Still the library was suddenly packed, the common rooms suddenly silent. 

The library was Aelin preferred place of studying, and that was where she sat, surrounded by sheets of parchment and open books, all tossed haphazardly around her table. She always had issues with staying organized, but she preferred calling the mess on the table organized chaos. In fact, the only organized thing about her was the detailed study schedule Nehemia and Dorian had drawn up for her a week ago. It was color coded. 

Aelin ran a finger down the list of today's studying. As her tutors (Nehemia and Dorian, of course. Aedion offered some abstract advice on Transfig, and while she was happy he tried, it did nothing for her.) knew her well, the minority of the studying was on subjects that came easily to her-DADA, Charms, Herbology-while the harder subjects took up most of her time.

Practically, she  _should_ be studying Transfiguration right now. A thin book in front of her was even open to the strange boxy alphabet used in equations. And speaking of, Aelin  _did_ have to brush up on her formulas. She just had to concentrate. Squinting at the page, Aelin began dutifully scanning her notes. 

_Transfiguration equaled...body weight (b), viciousness (v), times wand power (w)...affected by...affected by-_

Professor Hamel had told her about some theory recently, that Inferi were really affected by dark magic pollution, and that was why they couldn't be animated by anyone other than the raiser.

_-affected by concentration (c) and an unknown, barely quantifiable fifth ingredient. In formula it's referred to as (Z)-_

He had also included a small booklet on magical creature, and she had noted to ask him about the Persian Zahhak dragon, and word's meaning.

_To solve for Z, reverse the Transfiguration formula (T= w[b+v] *Zc) to create Z = (w[b+v]) * c/T). These formulas can accurately quantify a spell's affects. However variables like concentration-_

She really needed concentration.

_-are only whole numbers, and can be measured with several instruments and the complicated 'campi reperire' spell-_

Aelin slammed her quill down. This was getting ridiculous. 

"Hey, Ace."

She turned to see a welcome distraction, her cousin, approaching her table. He too was carrying a huge schoolbag. "Aedion," she sighed. "Are you here to help torment me too?"

 An easy grin spread on his face. "Sure, we'll go with that."

As Aedion sat, Aelin pushed her notes at him. "Transfiguration." she said by way of explanation.

"I see." said Aedion, not even looking at the textbook. "Shouldn't Nehemia be helping you?"

"I feel a little guilty about asking her right now," admitted Aelin. "She has exams too."

"Oh, she won't mind." insisted Aedion. "She's way too nice."

"Ah," said Aelin. "So  _that_ particular crush hasn't gone away."

Her cousin did a spectacular job of not blushing, but his ears went red. "No clue what you're talking about."

"And I'm going to have to get through this on my own anyway." continued Aelin. "So...the Transfiguration Formula."

"Fun stuff, fun stuff. There's bound to be a couple of problems on that."

"That's super gross." sighed Aelin. "To make matter's worse, I keep getting distracted by work that's  _not_ on an imminent test?"

"What work?"

"Professor Hamel's extra credit." she explained. "Cause we're going home so soon he gave me a ton of extra work, and me, the idiot, stayed up last night reading it all."

"All of it?"

"All of it."

"Merlin, Ace." said Aedion. "Chill a little, yeah?"

"Maybe I should study with someone." said Aelin hopefully. "Maybe they'll keep me on track."

She looked slyly up at Aedion, who shook his head at once. " _No._ I've got a Potions final tomorrow! Do you know what a Shivering Potion is? No? Neither do I!"

"Oh, it can't be-"

"Potions is to me as Transfig is to you."

"I'm glad to see you're hard at work." said Aelin darkly, gesturing at the lack of studying going on in his general direction.

Aedion, quick as a flash, pulled out a textbook from his schoolbag. "Hey, you distracted me."

"Well, I'll have to find someone else..." her gaze shifted through the packed library, considering. And then, brilliance. Aelin stood suddenly, and began to wave at a table. "Oi! Ghislaine! Sorscha?"

Sorscha looked over in confusion, but Ghislaine kept her eyes steadily on her notes.

"Come over here!" Aelin blached as the librarian gave her a truly threatening look, and repeated her words in a quieter voice."

Over at the other table, Sorscha shrugged beginly and motioned at Ghislaine to move. The Ironteeth witch let out a huge sigh before complying."

" _What_ , Galathynius." said Ghislaine, approaching. "I'm not giving you my notes so close to exams."

"I'm not asking for them." said Aelin. "Do you want to study with us?"

Ghislaine's cool gaze slid from a beaming Aelin and her half finished Transfig notes, to Aedion, who hadn't opened his textbook yet. "No."

"We'd love to." corrected Sorscha. "We can cover more bases like this." She took a seat next to Aelin and pulled up her long brown hair. "What are you working on?"

This action left Ghislaine to slowly lower herself down next to Aedion, who stared at her. Both of them looked wholly unimpressed with each other. 

"Transfiguration." said Aelin cheerfully. "Somehow it's just not  _sticking_ -"

"Hm, I have that problem too."

"And Aedion's doing Potions."

Aedion rolled his eyes. "Yeah."

"Oh, if you need any help I'm rather good at Potions." offered Sorscha.

"These are  _second year_ Potions, they're not that simple."

"Either way, I'm pretty ahead of the curriculum. So I could probably help. What are you doing right now?"

Relectuantly, Aedion turned his textbook so she could see. "Uh-"

"Oh, a common Sleeping Draught! I can mix one of those, one minute." Sorscha stood. "Ghislaine, we should switch."

The other witch, still surly, complied without saying anything. As they settled into their new seats, and Sorscha began to explain the properties of a Sleeping Draught, Aelin turned to Ghislaine.   
I've never seen you this quiet."

"I've never seen you this annoying." retorted Ghislaine. "Oh, wait. Yes I have."

"Rude." said Aelin. "Blackbeak's rubbing off on you."

"That was the rudest thing you've said so far."

That surprised laughter out of Aelin, and earned her another scathing look from the librarian. "Why, Ghislaine." said Aelin, delighted. "Aren't we glad you're here."

"Don't fuss." snapped the Ravenclaw. "Copy your notes."

"With glee."

* * *

 (Rough Draft)

_7:59 am:_

 Six hours before the combined court of Terrasen sat in session, Murtaugh Allsbrook sent out six small white owls out in different directions from his family home. Two went to the American school of Ilvermony. One flew in the vague direction of Fenharrow, and two more flew to Lake Vanern. The last letter was sent to the Hufflepuff girl's dormitories, in Hogwarts.

Murtaugh had just received the official summons from Rhoe, one of the only outdated court practices the Galathynius patriarch hadn't gotten rid of yet. The dappled light, filtering in through the heavy layers of branches and leaves and things struck the ground in a way that his eyes couldn't tear themselves from.

He  _loved_ Allsbrook lands. Their own corner of Oakwald was exquisite, a tiny parcel of land kept safe and secret from the world. Allsbrook held no political importance, nor was it strategically located. No Allsbrook export was really that important, and they had very little magical artifacts known to the outside world on site.

(In all honesty, there were _several_ very old royal Welsh artifacts buried beneath their forests with a lot of magical potential, but no one was going to know about _that_ while he was alive)

Adarlan, or anyone else, had absolutely no reason to raze Allsbrook. But they would. In this way, Murtaugh had almost nothing but family pride to salvage if he lost Allsbrook. But today, here, the forest was beautiful, and that was reason enough for him to fight for it. 

The Allsbrook spy network was so complex Murtaugh couldn't have possibly thought it up by himself. His grandfather had originally created the frameworks of the network in his short tenure as King Orlon's spymaster. Murtaugh had inherited the title of spymaster from his grandfather, as his father was more concerned with being Orlon's second in command. Similarly, Murtaugh's son had had no interest in learning spycraft. By this logic his grandson, though still young, should be groomed to take over. While Murtaugh was very fond of his grandson, he worried young Ren had too much of his father in him-to willing to hit things instead of figuring them out.

But time would tell on that front, at least. 

He watched the birds disappear into the sky, brow furrowed. He didn't have the _time_ to ramble. 

In each envelope was an identical report Murtaugh had gotten earlier from one of his Adarlan sources. It had included a rough draft, still in Havilliard's hand, of a decree that would change their lives if passed. 

Bile rose to the back of his throat as he remembered the feel of it, the parchment so smooth and lovely, the barest indentation from a very expensive fountain pen. The highest quality ink. Havilliard really had pulled out the stops as he signed away people's lives.

Sending the report to Nehemia may have been a mistake, as it closely involved her and her people. Murtaugh felt he owed her too much not to inform her however, and despite her age, he trusted her. She was smarter than most grown men. Unfortunately, she was also stupidly brave, and that may not pan out too well for her sake. 

Murtuagh went back inside, to his cluttered study. The original parchment, in Adarlan's even, blocky script, lay on his desk. He picked up the draft and filed it away carefully, in a magically preserved safe. when it all came crashing down around Havilliard's stupid, completely rounded ears, he would be there with evidence enough to guarantee life in Azkaban. 

* * *

 

(Preconceived Notions)

_9:46 am:_

"Oh-goodness!"

"Aah!"

Dorian stumbled back into a painting as the person he had just smacked into went careening backwards as well. He felt bad, it was a hundred percent his fault, and he really hadn't been looking where he was going. And then he looked up and saw that the person he had hit was Nehemia Ytger, and he felt worse.

"I'm really sorry," said Dorian, brushing his robes off. He frowned. Nehemia...didn't look like herself. Her braided hairstyle was wrapped haphazardly around her head, in what looked like a ferocious attempt to get it out of her face. She was pale, drawn, and if he looked close enough Dorian could almost swear her red rimmed eyes suggested she had been crying. Suddenly, Dorian wanted to apologize twice. 

"Oh, Dorian." said Nehemia is a slightly quieter voice than normal. "It's alright, don't worry about it." She clutched a letter in her hand. It then occurred to Dorian that she smelled very strongly of ink.

"No, it was my fault." he said. "I should've paid more attention."

Normally, that would've gotten a small smile out of her. But now she just shook her head. "I said, don't worry about it."

"Are you posting a letter?" he asked politely. So was he, actually, and if they walked up to the Owlery together, he could try and figure out what's wrong.

Nehemia's mouth tightened into a hard line. "Yes. But maybe not right now."

"Not-?" Dorian gestured to the paper in her hand.

"I'm headed to the Herbology rooms right now." said Nehemia stiffly. "But I was going to the Owlery later."

"Oh, okay. I'm going to the library." said Dorian, trailing off awkwardly. She really didn't look well. "How are you doing on your exams?" he blurted. 

As soon as it left his mouth, he regretted it. He wanted to de-stress her, and asking about exams was sure to do the opposite.

Surprisingly enough,  _this_ was what got a tiny smile out of her. "They're going alright, Dorian. Thank you very much for asking."

Nehemia began to move past him. "I'll see you around, alright? If you need anything exam wise, don't hesitate to come find me.'

A little taken aback at the change of pace, Dorian smiled back lightly at her. "Thanks, Nehemia."

SHe waved goodbye to him as she continued down the hallway. As soon as they had bumped into each other, she had felt a cold wash of dread infect her bones. Running into a _Havilliard_? _Now?_ Especially with what she was holding? It was just bad karma. And she kept looking at Dorian's face and seeing his father-even though they hardly looked alike. Every doubt she had about Dorian, from the beginning of the year to the Calaculla decision replayed in her brain. Was he  _really_ a good kid? Could he be, raised in the kind of environment he grew up in?

But somewhere during that stilted, strange and quick conversation, Nehemia knew she was right. Maybe it was when he asked after her, when he clearly saw that she was upset and tried to ask her about it without upsetting her further-either way, Nehemia was affirmed. Dorian Havilliard was _nothing_ like the monster he called a father.

She continued on her way, more and more confident of the two sheets of folded parchment in her hand.

* * *

 (Democracy)

  _12:05 am:_

"So, we're voting?" asked Rey from the Anascauls. 

"We decided it was the most fair way." said Evalin. "Does anyone object?"

No one did.

"Okay." said Rhoe, trying his best to work out the worry in his voice. "Anyone who wants to be considered, stand."

Rey shot up, her knees bumping into the table. It was youth that had her so eager, the whole room knew, but no one objected to her nominating herself. Slower, but a little more surely, Cal stood. Evalin followed him, her robes rippling at her feet. She looked like an oak tree, tall and strong.

Rhoe saw Marion fidget, as though she didn't know whether to stand or not. She compromised by gripping her husband's arms. Khadija looked old, worn, and smiled lightly as she met his eyes. She was sitting this one out. Rena and Lissea, both supernaturally beautiful and relatively youthful, only gazed up at those standing in wonder. Rhoe, privately, agreed. He knew he'd see a new king in his lifetime, but Orlon was just such a constant...

Slowly, a half breath after everyone else, Rhoe Galathynius stood. And all eyes snapped to him, and then to Evalin. And then back to him.

"Let's do this."

* * *

 (A Deconstructed Throne)

_5:35 pm:_

Adarlan Havilliard sat at his heavy mahogany desk, scanning a document he had just written. The black ink still shone wet on the page, so he was careful about smudging it. If the way he wanted everything to play out happened, this would be on the Wizengamot floor in a year. And as Minister, he'd preside over the entire court.

The plan was bold, but some leftist would probably try to argue for prisoner rights. He was prepared for this. The plan was too big, too much a departure from the tradition he claimed to love. But it was incredibly economical, and it was incredibly profitable. For him. Even though these papers were just a tentative plan for expansion, he thought they could really amount to something.

Finding no conceivable errors, Adarlan dried the ink with a flick of his wand, and filed away the draft. As he lay it in a think manila folder, the bold title caught his attention:

_EXPANSION OF AZKABAN PRISON: ENDOVIER MINING CAMP_

 

* * *

 

_12:08 am:_

"We're going to do this in a very organized way." said Evalin. "The five remaining-those not being considered for the position-will vote on the four of us in rounds. one of us will be eliminated every round until there are two of us left. When it's between two, those still standing will be able to cast votes for themselves. So the entire court will truly vote."

"Acceptable." said Khadija. She leaned back.

"Let's start the first round." said Rhoe.

"Okay." said Marion, voice determined. "I vote for Evalin."

* * *

(Light) 

_6:00 pm:_

Marion sat at her desk at the  _Daily Prophet_ , still numb from the final decision. Unfortunately, as a newspaper editor and columnist, she didn't have time to process. They had a paper to get out the next morning.

There was some chatter among the beat writers, all hunching over someone's desk to read something. As a senior editor, Marion really ought to stop them and get them all back on track, but she was much more comfortable working in silence. Communication required thought, Terrasen-unrelated thought. She wasn't up for that anyway.

So she continued reviewing some of the front page stories, making sure they were fact checked through the journalist's notes and error free. A quill dipped in red ink was her new best friend.

(He best friend, oh _god_ , Ev-)

Marion shut that thought down, focusing on a coverage of a debate. A Wizengamot member's name was spelled wrong. A comma there, a sentence here...

"Mare?"

She looked up to see a fresh faced journalist in front of her desk. "Yes, Jill?"

"Have you seen this?" exclaimed Jill. She thrust heavily creased papers at Marion, who took them warily.

"What are these?"

"We were owled them this morning, but we didn't get around to reading it...uh, just take a look. The author's anonymous, but she-we _think_ it's a she-wrote and asked us if we had any space in the paper for it."

"That's not necessarily how we work at the _Prophet_ , Jill." said Marion, frowning. She grabbed her reading glasses and jammed them on her face to read the piece. 

"I know, but it's damn good, Mare."

Marion looked up. "Yeah?"

"Read it."

Marion looked back down at the title, and read it aloud; "'Outrage and Imperialism: Xenophobia from behind British lines-' Jill, what..."

She continued reading, mouth slowly falling open. "Oh Merlin!"

"I know!"

"But-"

"I know."

"How on earth did the writer get this information?" demanded Marion. "That Adarlan is drafting legislation to set up a police force to actively deport immigrants who don't pass citizenship exams...not to mention this prison expansion thing, we can't print this without fact checking it!"

"But listen!" said Jill. "The way it's written, we can just say we got it in the mail and thought it was interesting enough to print. It's the author's opinion, and it's _bloody brilliant,_ the way she talks about being a stranger even though she _did_ pass all those citizenship stuff...we have to print it. At least somewhere! Page six!"

Marion scanned it further. "This is...very interesting." she said slowly. "It's a fresh take on race and magic."

"Page eight?"

"Oh, no." said Marion, shaking her head. "We're not printing this on page eight."

Jill deflated. "You said it's good! It's gotta be printed."

"Yeah." said Marion. "On page one. Above the fold. Toss out the debate piece to make room. We need this one."

The reporter beamed.

"And you said the author is completely anonymous?"

"Yeah," said Jill, smiling slyly. "But I think me and the other reporters already found a good moniker, pen name, whatever."

"What is it?"

Her smile grew. "Light."

* * *

 

_12:15 am:_

Rey sat down, only looking slightly abashed that no one cast a vote for her. "Second round?" she asked. Cal, Evalin, and Rhoe remained.  

"I vote for Rhoe." said Rey, before looking expectantly at Khadija.

"Rhoe." said the old witch.

"Cal." said Lissea.

"Evalin." said Marion again, firm.

* * *

 (Appeal) 

_6:00 pm:_

 

_Mum and Dad,_

_Both of you need to chill. See, now i know about the Rena thing and everything's been spoiled. For you, at least. I'm appropriately ecstatic, so good for me._

_This is going to be a very short letter, unfortunately, but by the time you get it it'll be maybe two days before I'm home for the summer anyway. But exams are killing me, I've no clue how any of the upperclassmen are surviving! People are taking their OWLS!_

_Transfiguration is killing me, as usual. But I'll be okay. My marks are always fine, no matter if I shake myself to pieces before hand from stress._

_See, I'm really only writing you cause I'm procrastinating studying. The only reason. There it is, out in the open._

_So let's hit the bullet points._

_Mum-vacation in Fenharrow sounds amazing! Me and Aedion are fine now. I'm never going into politics. Quidditch is still a thing, but let's see if I make the House team before we jump to conclusions. Yes, I do love Nehemia._

_Dad- Clotho Blackbeak sounds like a terrible person, good luck. I know her granddaughter (no comment). I really love Nehemia. Keep campaigning! And I'll let Dorian know he can stay over whenever. I'd love to send a full report, Dad, but you know. Procrastinating. I gotta stop myself somehow._

_That's gotta be about it, then. I'll see you both at King's Cross!_

  _Love,_

_Aelin_

 

* * *

 

_12:17 am:_

Rhoe and Evalin each had two votes and Cal had one. 

Rena was the deciding vote here, and she weighed all three with great seriousness. If she voted for Cal, no one would be eliminated. Silence stretched out, and Rhoe felt sweat trickle down his back.

"Evalin." said Rena finally, gold eyes sad. She knew what she had done.

Cal sat down, but not without looking mournfully at Rhoe.

Rhoe didn't even notice. He was too busy locking gazes with his wife, who hardly looked surprised. Evalin's lip shifted in her approximation of a very sad smile. Rhoe shook his head, mirroring her expression. 

"Hey," he said. The entire room could hear him, but it was clear these words were meant for her. "We knew."

"Yes." said Evalin. "We did."

Rhoe was suddenly thankful a whole table was between them. If he were even a little bit closer to her, he didn't know whether he could stop himself from throwing Evalin over his shoulder and Apparating far away, where no one could find them.

She seemed to know what he was thinking, cause her smile bloomed. "Sacrifices must be made." she said, but her eyes said _Aelin_.

Aelin.

Either way, she would lose a parent. She would still have them, in the barest sense of parenting. The shift from being a dad to being a father. 

Rhoe swallowed roughly. "I-" he said, before cutting himself off. They weren't alone.

The court were somber, even during this private moment. 

"Do you need some time?" asked Khadija.

He saw Evalin start at the voice. "No." she said immediately. "W're fine."

"We're fine." Rhoe echoed. 

"Let's begin." said Evalin, looking at him. "I vote for myself."

Rhoe smiled in repose. "I also vote for myself."

* * *

  (Bend and Break) 

_10:15 am:_

"What kept you?" called Aelin as Dorian crossed over to her table.

"Ran into someone. And I mailed a letter." he said, before looking quizzically at her table. Sorscha, he understood, Aedion, he understood, but what on earth was Ghislaine doing here?

"Well sit, let's study." said Aelin. Dorian complied, saying hello to the rest of the table. Most of them said hello back.

"So," said Dorian a short time later, as they all were engrossed in separate assignments. "What's new, A?"

The girl shrugged, head still bent over a Charms textbook. "Not much. Got a few letters this morning."

"Oh, that's nice. I just posted one myself."

"Yeah? To whom?"

"Hollin, my brother. He's a _brat_ , but I like to check up on him."

She glanced up at him, smiling. "That's sweet."

"Sounds familiar." said Aedion under his breath. Aelin kicked him hard under the table.

"Anyway," laughed Dorian. "Your letters?"

"They were from my parents. Oi, I might go to Fenharrow this summer on vacation."

Sorscha looked up at that. "Same." she said, spurring a laugh from the table. "But really, if you want nice vacation spots, I _do_ live there. I know it well enough."

"Thanks," said Aelin, grinning. "I'll let you know."

"God, I can't wait for summer." said Aedion wistfully.

"We gotta get this down first." said Aelin, pointing at their books. "But yeah. Me too."

Dorian grinned, but couldn't quite feel the same enthusiasm. After all, he was far more at home at Hogwarts than he was near his family. "What's the one thing you want to get  back to?"

"My bed at home." said Aedion. 

"The food." sighed Sorscha.

"You not being there." said Ghislaine.

Dorian flashed a grin at her. "And you, Aelin?"

Aelin thought for a moment. "Well." she said. "It's silly, but I guess it would be my parents." she smiled. "I kinda miss them."

* * *

 

_12:30 am:_

Rey, Khadija, and Cal voted for Rhoe. Lissea, Rena, and Marion had voted for Evalin. With the votes they had cast themselves, it was four-four even, with Murtaugh Allsbrook as a tie breaker.

Evalin and Rhoe turned to Murtaugh then, who looked suddenly stricken.

"Hey," said Evalin, smiling lightly. "You don't get to make that face."

She was referred to when, months ago, Murtaugh had appeared to them and insisted one of them take the throne.

"Apologies." said Murtaugh, throat dry.

"Don't do that right now." said Rhoe. "Later. Not now."

Evalin looked at him, then, her gaze soft. Sad. "Murtuagh, we're going to need an answer." she said softly, eyes still on her husband.

Screw it, thought Rhoe. He crossed the bunker to her and grabbed her hand tightly. She squeezed hard in response.

Murtuagh looked at their clasped hands, and then at the expressions on their faces. Evalin looked like a mast, tall and unwavering. Brave, bold, and unbreakable. While Rhoe...Rhoe looked scared. He looked terrified of losing something-either his wife or his daughter. And his hands were definitely shaking. But his jaw was set, and his eyes flint, even as he shook.

"I wanted this." admitted the old man. "I'm sorry. I thought of it too logically. I didn't think of what it would do to you both."

"Please." said Evalin, her voice almost catching. She could count the number of times she had said 'please' on a hand. "Quickly."

"Who is it?" asked Rhoe.

 Murtuagh closed his eyes briefly, looking older than ever. When the spymaster opened his eyes, he was certain. 

"Rhoe."

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and we're out
> 
> reviews are a healthy dose of angst


	12. The Blackbeak Dinner and Other Grievances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evalin smiled wryly. "Daughter of mine, you already know that as long as there is injustice, there will be people to fight that darkness. Unfortunately, this normally just causes more darkness. To compensate."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't freak out i just changed my psued to what i normally use :)
> 
> some notes:  
>  -so I'm American but no one in this fic is so I've decided to use celsius and the metric system and whatever from now on. For everyone reading this in the states, 35 C is 95 F, or pretty damn hot.  
>  -Iskra is like a year younger than manon while Petrah is a year above. I've mentioned this before but fyi
> 
>  **Previously, on PLTLWM:** Rhoe took the Antler Throne. Evalin's dealing with that fallout, and hasn't told Aelin yet. Clotho Blackbeak, Manon's grandma, invited everyone for dinner. Nehemia wrote an op ed about her experiences as a minority under the name 'Light'. Everyone loved it. Lysandra and Archer have temporarily teamed up to resist whatever the heck Arobynn is doing. Also, it's summer! Yay! And that's what u missed:

**Chapter 12- The Blackbeak Dinner and Other Grievances**

or

"Summer Mourning"

Summer is as summer was. 

The train ride back to King's Cross station was bitersweet. One one end, the first years spent the entire time laughing, playing card games and attempting to shotgun as many cauldron cakes as they could. Aelin won, of course, and though Manon Blackbeak refused to take part in the competition, immediately tried to out do her by 'casually' drinking an abysmal amount of pumpkin juice. During the second half of the ride they retreated into different compartments: Aelin, Dorian and Chaol into one, the Slytherin girls with the rest of Manon's Ironteeth friends, and the rest generally filtering out by House. Aedion poked his head in Aelin's compartment for a bit, but mostly hung out with his second year friends. 

It was quieter with only three people in a compartment, and Aelin's gang felt the space was a lot bigger than they remembered.

"This is weird, right?" asked Aelin, twirling her wand around her fingers. 

Dorian nodded. "Pretty weird."

"What is?" said Chaol, eating the remaining cakes. Aelin snatched the cake out of his hand and placed it into her own mouth. " _Pig_."

"Prat." said Aelin, mouth full. 

 " _Anyway_ ," said Dorian. "Weird."

"It's not like we haven't gone home before, though." said Aelin. "For the hols."

"You were the only one who went back for both Christmas  _and_ Easter." pointed out Chaol. "It's been longer for us."

"I guess that's true." Aelin frowned. "You know what sucks?"

"What?'

"The whole no magic thing." Her face scrunched up. "I didn't learn this Jelly-Legs Jinx for nothing."

Dorian laughed. "Who would you even do that jinx on? Your parents?"

Aelin briefly entertained the idea of hexing her father from behind for fun. " _No_. Aedion, probably."

Chaol seemed to enjoy that mental image a lot. "So what are you gonna do this summer, if not hexing your family?"

"Quidditch." said Aelin immediately. "So much Quidditch. I'm gonna be so good by next year's try outs."

"I think I'd like to try out for Ravenclaw next year too." said Dorian thoughtfully. "I know I want to play for the team at some point, an there's no way I'll make it next year. I just want the try out experience."

"I'm trying out too." said Chaol.

"Wouldn't it be great if we all made it?" said Aelin. " _That'll_ show Blackbeak, yeah? Me and Chaol on the same team?" Dorian cleared his throat, and she shot him a sheepish smile. "And I'm sure Ravenclaw  _won't_ tie with Slytherin for last if you're on the team."

"Merlin, even when you're being  _nice_ , you're rude."

Aelin blew him a kiss.

"A," Chaol grimaced. "You really think second years can make the team proper?"

"We just have to work extra hard." said Aelin indignantly. "It's easy."

"I don't think that one made sense." said Dorian, exchanging a look with Chaol."

"Well, Aedion made the reserves." pointed out Aelin. "So we can too. Except for me. I'm going for the gold. Full Chaser status."

"Sure." allowed Chaol.

"I'll do it!" said Aelin. "I mean it."

"I believe you." said Dorian, a little kinder. 

"Here's what, we'll get together a lot this summer, and play, and then you guys can see for yourself!"

Both boys flinched back. Aelin blinked, surprised at the violent reaction. "What's up?"

Dorian in particular looked a little pinched. "Aelin..."

"We're probably not going to see each other that often this summer." said Chaol slowly. "For...obvious reasons."

Aelin pressed her lips together. 'We haven't talked about that in a while."

"The 'our parents are mortal enemies' thing?" asked Dorian. "Yeah. No offense, Aelin, but I want you no where near my house."

"Nor mine."

"But my parents know your situation!" said Aelin. "My dad took you both to a Quidditch game, he welcomed you both to our house."

Chaol shrugged. "I'm sure telling my father I'm going to the Galathynius family house for tea would go over well."

"And A, this was  _before_ my father did his thing. I mean, with the Ministry run."

"That won't change anything." said Aelin, but she wasn't too sure what it would change. Her mother had been very against her contacting Dorian after the announcement, but did that mean she was no longer okay with their friendship? And what about her father?

Heck, thought Aelin fiercely. If Aedion could get over it, so could they.

"Alright, we don't know what's gonna happen there." said Aelin, conceding. "But we can do this. We can meet up in Diagon Alley sometime!"

She looked so earnest and hopeful Dorian found himself nodding. "You're right. We'll figure this out."

Aelin smiled prettily at him.

"I guess." said Chaol doubtfully. "Uh, I mean we'll do our best."

"Damn straight." said Aelin happily.

There was a lull in the conversation as she tucked her feet up underneath her. Dorian was staring out the window, at the fast moving trees. He seemed to be steeling himself for something. 

"So." said Chaol, his voice strange. The train was slowing down, they realized. "Weird, right."

Dorian and Aelin, smiled. "Weird." said Dorian.

"We've had quite a year." said Aelin, ticking off on her fingers. "Let's recap. We met, and I insulted you-"

"-never stopped." said Chaol.

"-I met, and thereby fell in love with, Nehemia, Manon made the Quidditch team..."

"You and Aedion had the biggest darn fight we've ever seen." said Dorian.

"Professor Hamel is tutoring me," continued Aelin, "Aedion and I had a  _slight_ falling out, what else-"

"Slight?" said Chaol incredulously. 

 " _Quite_ a year." said Aelin, speaking over him. "Well, boys? Was it a good one?"

"Still deciding." said Dorian.

"Depends on whether or not you eat the rest of my chocolate frogs." said Chaol.

 She huffed. "Here I am, trying to have a nice moment with my friends to be sentimental, and you both are teasing."

Dorian was the one to laugh and give in, hooking an arm around one of her's. "It was a good year, A."

"Yeah?" she asked, glowing up at him.

"Yeah."

* * *

 (Light, Again)

Aelin was laughing at the breakfast table, nearly bent over her cereal, clutching a copy of the Daily Prophet. Her mother watched her dryly from the other side of the oak table, eating oatmeal.

"Aelin-"

" _Merlin-_ oh my  _god,_ I can't believe they printed this! I can't believe!"

"I know, honey." said Evalin. "You've been laughing for at least ten minutes."

Aelin, tears streaming down her face, gestured towards the paper. "Have you  _seen_ this?"

"Aelin, I gave you the paper."

"I can't believe they printed this." said Aelin again, absolutely delighted. "This was the prefect thing to come home to."

"Well, gee."

"Mum, I don't mean it like _that_."

"No, my only daughter wants nothing to do with me, is more emotionally attached to a newspaper article than to her mother, so it goes." said Evalin loftily, a hand over her heart.

" _Mum_.'"

"Alright, alright."

"But really." said Aelin, gazing down at the paper. "This is the same paper that broke the news of Havilliard's minister run. And then they go and print something way left field like this?"

Her mother felt her heart give a certain lurch at the sight of Aelin, bent over the paper, eyes alight with glee and passion. Despite how similar mother and daughter were in looks, Aelin had her father's sheer enthusiasm for life, and-

Evalin shut that thought down. She stood, smiling gracefully, and took Aelin's bowl. "I know. Marion owled me the article once she printed it, she was very excited."

"But the _Prophet_ doesn't normally  _do_ things like this, right? This is hardly an editorial."

"No." agreed Evalin. "It was an article written by an outside source, an opinion piece, and the paper printed it alongside some Ministry bloke's endorsement of the Havilliard campaign. Just to show both sides of it."

"In all honestly, it's not really a laughing matter, is it?" said Aelin, sobering. " _Outrage and Imperialism: Xenophobia from behind British lines._ It's really emotional stuff. And they say it was written by a teenager?"

"Yup." said Evalin. "She mentions being racially discriminated against, so probably from Fenharrow or Eyllwe. My money's on Fenharrow, only because Lee Kavill owled me with absolute glee this morning about the article."

"Lee Kavill may not know who the author is." suggested Aelin. "I don't know though, don't you think it sounds familiar?"

Evalin frowned. "As a matter of fact, I _did_. The writing, somehow, in the later areas of the piece sounded a little recognizable to me. Perhaps Lee himself wrote it, goodness knows I've heard him speak and seen his writing enough." 

"I thought you said it was a girl?"

"Whoever it is is keeping a very tight lid on it." said Evalin. "She- _they_ -go by 'Light', which is very sweet but not exactly telling." 

"Are people trying to figure out who the author is?" Aelin wanted to know.

Evalin smiled wryly. "Daughter of mine, you already know that as long as there is injustice, there will be people to fight that darkness. Unfortunately, this normally just causes more darkness. To compensate."

"What are you saying?"

" _Everyone_ is looking for her."

* * *

  (Her)

Nehemia, foregoing the thick robes going to school in Scotland required, had sequestered herself in a small cafe in Wizarding Banjali, along with a book and a copy of the newspaper. Anyone who was watching her, the young girl at the corner table, could see that she was, without a doubt,  _happy_. Not exactly beaming, but there was a glow to he cheeks that shone out a feeling of contentness and warmth. 

Mostly warmth. It was nearly thirty-five degrees in Banjali that day.

Her book was nonfiction, a piece of investigative journalism from a woman in the 80's who was trying to prove institutional racism at establishments like St. Mungo's. Nehemia was going to mention it in her next...her next...

Instinctively, her eyes slid to the paper next to her. Front page, bold letters. Outrage and Imperialism; Xenophobia from Behind British Lines.

The title was a little wordy, she thought. She had written it last, after finishing the entire piece detailing her life as an outsider. An observer. It was a simple observational piece on how awful it was being in her shoes in Adarlan. 

But the  _response_. Everyone was talking about the article, everyone was wondering who Light was. Nehemia knew she was being smart by sending it in anonymously, but well, she was a little proud of it. Sending it to the  _Prophet_ was a long shot anyway, and somehow the editors there thought it worthy of the front page! 

That had basically given her the boost she needed to get through exams.

There was still a sense of disbelief. Nehemia was so young, had no formal writing training, and just like at the EWC, every word she had spoken in passion was printed, black and white, stark against the slightly yellow parchment.

So yeah. She was happy.

Or at least, she was until Murtaugh Allsbrook sat down roughly at her table.

Nehemia pulled back slightly, surprised. She wasn't meeting with him today, why was he here?

"Can I...help you?" she started with. This was Wizarding Banjali, if anyone saw them together, it would be a problem. There was a reason they always met in the Muggle world. 

Murtuagh looked wild, gray eyebrows sticking every which way and tufts of hair poking out from beneath a large gray hat. He smacked her newspaper. "What are you playing at?"

Ah, thought Nehemia. So he had recognized the writing. "I was careful." she started.

"Careful?" repeated Murtuagh incredulously. "Careful? Nehemia, if I could figure it out-"

"No one else can." she said firmly. "You are the only one I've worked extensively with. I sound like an average black girl in Britian, which is what I was going for. The  _Prophet_ doesn't know who I am. I did everything I could."

The older man seemed at a loss for words. "Why? Why did you do it in the first place?"

"I needed to do something." said Nehemia,eyes flashing. "I  _can't_ just sit around and wait, especially at such a crucial time. If my words can help stop Adarlan from being appointed Minister..."

"You have a high opinion of yourself."

"Every word I spoke against him at the EWC was printed." said Nehemia. "Last time we met, you said it yourself. My words _meant_ something. They forced people to reevaluate. And for you, for your work, I think the general public could do with some reevaluation."

Murtuagh's face looked pinched, as though he didn't want to agree with her. "And 'Light', Ytger? Really?"

She cracked a small smile. "It's something Sorscha said to me once. I thought, why not?"

"Why not?" said the older man weakly.

"Mr. Allsbrook," said Nehemia. "This is the _right_ thing."

"Yes." said Murtuagh. "I believe you."

* * *

(Are you there, God? It's me, Dorian)

The Havilliard family mansion was big, made up in dark stone, with thick red tapestries covering the always cold walls. That was mostly the problem with living far, far north, next to a lake.

Dorian spent most of his time in his family library, where a massive fireplace kept him warm. As for books, unfortunately, he didn't have many he didn't already go through. Fiction, that was. Dorian had no interest in the practical texts. Whatever magic he had to learn, he'd do it during the school year.

A week home, and he was already bored. Dorian found himself mentally drafting a letter to Aelin. Two paragraphs in, he scrapped it. There was no way he could get an owl to the Galathynius home under his father's eye. Dorian started again, but this time to Chaol. 

_Dear Chaol. I'm very bored. Come over, and we can play Quiddich until Hollin starts screeching about being left out._

And that was it. Somehow, he always had more to tell Aelin. Briefly, he wondered what his house mates were doing. Ghislaine and Kaya and Thea and...Sorscha, what was Sorscha doing? The rest were Ironteeth, Dorian figured they were somewhere east letting Manon Blackbeak hold court over them. But what was Sorscha doing? She never mentioned anything about summer plans, and as far as he knew she was staying in Fenharrow.

Fenharrow was a rather big place, Dorian decided after glancing at a world map. He didn't even know what part of it she was from, or where she lived...it was true, Dorian didn't tel anyone but Chaol where he lived, but that was more a 'My Father Is Very Rude' thing. Did Sorscha have the same issue?

Maybe he'd write  _her_ a letter. Owls were smart! Hopefully just her name could get it to her. 

Yes, he decided. A letter to Sorscha. To everyone! The Ironteeth girls too, one to Manon addressing the rest of the Ravenclaws, and a separate one to Ghislaine mentioning very casually how many rare books he owned. 

But Sorscha first, cause he felt like even though it had  _only_ been a week, he missed the gentle way she would talk him down. Sorscha was good for being alone with. And Dorian knew he had to get used to being alone very soon this summer.

 

* * *

 (Liar, Liar, Liar)

 Something was wrong, thought Aedion as he and Aelin played a game of chess in her room. The door was open, and occasionally, he could see Aunt Evalin cross to her own bedroom, or stoop to speak to a house elf. 

"Knight to B6." said Aelin, in front of him, brow furrowed in concentration. Aedion quickly returned his attentions to the game-despite her natural proclivity for  _everything_ , he was somehow still better at chess. That was probably why Aelin insisted on playing so much. 

"Bishop to B6." said Aedion, tossing her a grin. Aelin stuck her tongue out at him. His smile waned as she looked back down at the board.

Something was  _very_ wrong. 

"Kids!" Evalin poked her head in through the doorway. "Lunch is downstairs."

"We'll be right down, mum." said Aelin, scrambling to get off the bed. 

Evalin nodded absently, turning to go, but not before catching Aedion's slightly distrustful gaze. "Alright, there?" she asked kindly.

Aedion nodded, still stone faced. 

"Good." she said. "Come along. Food."

Downstairs, Aelin and her mother chatted aimlessly, the girl impossibly happy. Aedion ate his sandwich quietly, watching the Galathynius matriarch's face for signs of stress, wear and tear. Beside new wrinkles around her eyes and slight stress lines on her forehead, Evalin looked the same. Her gaze was solely upon Aelin. 

"-so I'm telling Chaol, right, this is just after the Harpies match, I'm telling him that Dad used to be an Auror, and he looks at me,  _straightest face_ , and says-"

Aelin kept talking, and Aedion laughed appropriately at her story. Evalin exchanged a quick glance with him.

"Anyway," said Aelin, taking a sip of juice. "Where  _is_ Dad? His business trips never last this long. Still in some village in Fenharrow?"

Aedion purposefully kept his body lax at the question. So did Evalin, but he noticed the light in her eyes dimming significantly. 

"It's a delicate situation over there." said Evalin easily. 

 _Liar_ , thought Aedion.

"I had hoped he'd be back by the Blackbeak dinner, but I'm not so sure anymore." continued Evalin. "But that's alright, he's doing good work over there."

_Liar, liar, liar._

"Okay." said Aelin, accepting the explanation. "Ugh, the Blackbeak dinner, I can't believe I'll have to see Manon so soon after break started."

 Aedion caught Evalin's gaze. She was looking at him too, now, and her smile had vanished. "Right." he said. "Like you wouldn't love to see her house."

Aelin snorted, before spluttering out a defense. Aedion grinned slightly, going back to his sandwich.

Evalin was still looking at him, face stony. 

After lunch, Aelin declared she wanted to play Quidditch, and rushed to their broom shed outside. Aedion was about to follow, but he felt Evalin lay a hand over his shoulder.

"Aedion," she started in a low voice, once her daughter was out of ear shot. 

"He's not coming back, is he?" said Aedion sharply.

What he didn't expect was her eyes to fill with sudden tears. Evalin swallowed hard, her mouth setting in a tight line. "No." she said.

Aedion suddenly remembered the last time he had seen Rhoe Galathynius, at Christmas. He had been gazing at his daughter as she coolly looked on at Maeve. The expression on his face remained in Aedion's memory long after Marion had seized him and Apparated away. He had been proud, fierce. 

Something was more than wrong. Something had gone absolutely terrifying. 

"What happened?" Aedion asked, panic creeping into his voice.

"He is where he needs to be right now." said Evalin roughly. "Listen to me, Aedion-"

_He is doing good work._

"-you  _cannot_ tell her. About anything."

How could he? He didn't understand it himself.

"It'll cause more harm than good, I can't have her worrying about this. It's not-" Evalin's voice broke. "It's not in her best interest nor in our cause's. Do you understand?"

What was happening to them? The Galathynius family, the people he loved more than life. What was happening? 

"Aedion." Evalin's voice ached with urgency. " _Do you understand?_ "

"Hey, cousin!"

They both froze as Aelin's vice echoed through the corridor. She was standing at the door, hands on her hips, a petulant expression on her face. "Are you coming, Aedion?"

In that moment, Aedion knew he and Evalin were, for once, thinking the same thing:  _protect Aelin_.

"Yeah." he said, his voice coming out surprisingly normal. "Yeah, hold up."

Aedion started over to her, keeping his breathing measured and his pace normal. Evalin watched them go, her face unreadable. But it was okay. She knew he had understood. They may not agree on much, but the bond between them, forged on a single thought ( _protect Aelin_ ) was enough.

 

* * *

(Have Respect, Take Heed) 

"Ah, no, over there." snapped the tall woman directing the moving men around Manon's foyer. Manon knew she was Thea' mom, but didn't much care for her and therefore sill referred to her as the 'tall women' in her head. The tiny show of disrespect was enough for Manon to feed on. 

The entire household was preparing for the dinner party. Not just the household-all three Ironteeth clans were coming together to discuss 'strategy'.

Strategy, thought Manon gloomily as she sat on the steps, just out of the tall woman's line of sight. Why would one need a strategy meeting for  _dinner_?

But she did understand. Having all these dignitaries in one room was going to be a little dangerous for everyone. Manon had no idea why the Ironteeth matriarchs even decided this was necessary, and that was what left her feeling petulant. She hated not being in the loop. 

What was good, though, was that all of her girls were constantly around her. In case. Asterin and Sorrel had ferried everyone off so Manon could have some quiet time, but she didn't need much. All twelve of them at her back calmed her down considerably.

"Manon."

She looked up to see the tall woman glaring at her. "Yes, aunt?" she asked, smoothly standing up.

"Your grandmother wishes to see you."

"Of course, aunt. Thank you." said Manon, voice like a clear stream. She inclined her head in a mockery of a bow, and swept off to her grandmother's office. She schooled her expression on the walk over, perfecting her stone face. As she reached her grandmother's ornate door and knocked, Manon knew she looked perfectly clam.

"Enter."

Manon did so, closing the door behind her. She bowed, a real one this time, and kept her gaze averted. "Grandmother."

Her eyes were sill fixed on the floor, but she heard her grandmother put down the paper she was holding. "Manon, good. It's good manners to be prompt."

"Thank you."

"You may look at me."

Manon met her grandmother's gaze. Clotho Blackbeak nodded in approval. "You wanted to speak to me."

"Yes. About your role in this weekend's dinner."

She nodded. 

"The other children your age-you know who they are?"

"Aelin Galathynius." said Manon immediately. "Dorian Havilliard, I-" she faltered. "Have you decided to invite the Ytger girl?"

Clotho pressed her lips together. "Yes."

Yes? Why now? Manon wiped her confusion away swiftly. "What's changed?" she asked casually.

A small smile appeared on her grandmother's face. "This," she said tossing a newspaper onto the desk and nodded for Manon to pick it up. The eleven year old crossed to the desk and read the title out loud.

"'Outrage and Imperialism: Xenophobia from behind British lines'?"

"Read it." said Clotho. 

Manon complied, speed reading through the article. She still didn't understand what this had to do with their dinner. "Hm."

"And now this." said her grandmother, handing her another newspaper, this one dated for months previous.

"This is the EWC coverage." said Manon, flipping through. She knew this article well, knew how it highlighted Nehemia Ytger's impassioned speech-

Manon's eyebrows rose slightly. She turned back to the latest paper, skimming it again. Clotho started to smile, and Manon understood.

"Nehemia Ytger wrote this." she said finally.

"No one else knows." said her grandmother. "I would've heard if anyone else made the connection. Anyway, it should be interesting to have her in this room with the rest of us."

Manon got it-by writing this piece, Nehemia had earned enough of her grandmother's respect to get her an invitation. 

"Your role," continued her grandmother. "will be to learn how much the children know about their parent's politics. Any resource we can tap while you are in Hogwarts."

That sentence, that simple sentence, suddenly confirmed something Manon had been on the verge of realizing for a while now. The reason she hadn't been admitted to Mahoutokoro was thus: Clotho needed a spy inside Hogwarts.

The bitterness that rose inside her was so strong Manon nearly lost control of her stone face. She pushed the lingering resentment down, down, until she couldn't see it anymore. 

"Of course, grandmother."

* * *

 

 (Pick a Side)

Lysandra and Archer sat, facing each other, in Madame Clarisse's sitting room. They were alone. The lamps were unlit. Just two children, staring at each other.

"So," started Lysandra. "How's your Nehemia dealing?"

"With what?" asked Archer. 

"Outrage and Imperialism: Xenophobia from behind British lines." said Lys dryly. 

Archer flushed. "You read my mail."

" _You_ left it out." snapped Lysandra. "How was I supposed to know it was a letter from 'M.A.' telling you that the  _Prophet's_ Light was your pal Nehemia?"

"At least shut up about it." said Archer. "Merlin. The whole world'll know if you keep blathering on about it."

"Blathering?" said Lysandra, sounding dangerous. "Look, I  _said_ I'd help you with all this, but I can very easily rescind that offer-"

Archer scoffed and looked away. Lysandra followed suit, color rising to her face. She wasn't all that upset at  _him_ , specifically. It was more like upset at her entire situation, at the fact that she was no longer at Hogwarts. 

Lys had kept her promise of teaching some of her sisters as much magic as she could, without a wand. She loved the girls, yes, but well. It was a little stifling to be here, the complete opposite from the incredible freedom of the school. 

The door opened, and a mesenger poked his head in. "The Madame is asking for you in the parlor."

"Thank you." said Lysandra, rising. Archer shot the messenger a grin and followed her out of the room.

"Remember." he hissed quietly to her. "Not a word to the madam, Lys, please-"

"I got it." said Lysandra. "No need to blather on."

As they neared the ornate doors, Lysandra stopped in her tracks. There, in front of them, lay the very object of both of their fears-Arobynn Hamel, speaking in low tones with Daisy Cortland. 

The courtesan was smiling lightly, not the one she normally offered customers, but something genuine. Lysandra frowned, and with great effort, continued down the hallway.

 "-and his studies?" Daisy was saying, quiet excitement in her voice. "How has he been doing?"

"He's quite clever." said Arobynn, almost kindly. "Here, I brought these."

He handed her two shiny photos, and before Daisy stowed them away in her pocket Lysandra caught sight of a gangly teenage boy, with brown curls matching the ones on Daisy's own head.

 _Oh_. Lysandra's heart sunk. Her son. Of course, he was studying with Arobynn. Aching with sympathy for her friend, she neared them. Daisy caught her eye and smiled down at her and Archer. Arobynn turned, and his eyes lit up as he saw them as well.

"Miss Lorien," he said with the smugness of someone who  _knew_ that was a fake name. "Mr Finn."

"Professor." they said together, with the exact same tone. Lysandra shot a quick glance at Daisy. "Hey, Daisy."

"Hi, honey." said the older woman. "I'll see you back in the room, okay?"

At her nod, Daisy Cortland walked past them, her hand in the pocket with the photos of her son.

"I hope you both have been keeping up with your summer assignments." said Arobynn.

Lysandra pasted a smile onto her face. That was just  _weird_. Him, acting as though he was just their professor when they very well knew exactly what he had been doing in the house. "Of course." she said, lying flawlessly. "And I hope you're well, Professor."

"I am, thank you, Lysandra." Arobynn said pleasantly. Somehow, this more than anything had her skin erupt in goosebumps. Her heart was hammering away, incredibly fast, and it was causing incredible strain not to let it show on her face.

God, God, she  _couldn't_ last. She couldn't do this any longer, not when he made her hair stand on end, when the simple, benign way he looked at her was so obviously a front. Lysandra begged her body not to start shaking. She couldn't come back from that if she tried, if he knew how she felt about him, how  _afraid_ she was of him-

Archer lay a hand on her shoulder, grounding her. Reality returned, sharp and precise. Lysandra maintained her simple smile. Archer squeezed her shoulder hard. 

"I've just come from seeing your madam, actually." continued Arobynn Hamel. Lysandra blinked. She had completely missed what he had been saying. 

"Actually," said Archer. "She just sent for us, we probably shouldn't keep her waiting."

"Of course." said Arobynn, stepping aside.

Lysandra managed an even, "Good day, Professor." before letting Archer pull her away.

"Are you stable?" he asked her in a low voice.

She nodded. Her lips felt numb. "I-I don't-"

"Lysandra," Archer looked at her, eyes flashing with intensity. "You've told me everything you knew about him, right? _Absolutely_ everything?"

"Yes."

His hand was still a heavy, solid weight on her shoulder. "Because you just nearly had a panic attack looking at him, he hasn't...he hasn't  _done_ anything, has he?"

As soon as she understood Archer wasn't accusing her of lying, Lysandra relaxed. "No, it's nothing like that. He hasn't tried anything, and we're too young anyway, the Bid-"

"We're not too young for some people." said Archer darkly. "Then why did you react like that?"

"I just...I don't like how he looks at me." she said quietly. Lys met his eyes. "I'm sorry. It's nothing concrete. I just...don't like it."

But Archer seemed to be taking her seriously. "Okay."

"It didn't show, did it?"

"No. You did good."

Lysandra nodded, grateful her training had kept her functional. "Thank you. For that."

"Don't mention it." he said. At her surprise, Archer nodded. "You picked a side. You're with me and we're in this together."

There was an underlying message, and she caught it because she really did know Archer Finn. He would've done it even if she had refused to help him. He would've done it because everything she felt for Arobynn Hamel, he felt the same way. 

* * *

(Wrong)

A month into summer vacation, and Aelin started to feel it.

Strange.

"Mum?" she asked one evening. Evalin had just gotten home from the Ministry, and was searching a book. 

"Yes, Aelin?"

"Where-" Aelin stopped. She didn't want to sound too confrontational. "I don't suppose you know when Dad's getting back?"

Without turning to face her, Evalin answered immediately. "Oh, I'm not sure. I know he's doing his best to come home soon, though."

"Huh." said Aelin. Something felt off about this to her. "You sure?"

Evalin laughed, glancing her way. "Of course I'm sure!"

"Okay." said Aelin. "If you say so."

* * *

 

(Play Date)

Aelin was in the same gold dress robes that she had worn at Christmas. Her mother, however, was in Terrasen green, dripping with gold jewelry. The Floo to the Blackbeak estate was a tense ride, despite Evalin looking entirely at ease. She knew when her mother was guarded, though, and this was totally one of those times.

"Be careful, Ace." she said. "Say the wrong thing to an Ironteeth, and it won't end well for you."

"I'll be okay." said Aelin. Her father's nickname for her jarred in her head. "I go to school with these girls. and it's not like I'll actually be talking to the adults."

Evalin smiled down at her as they approached the estate. "I'm very lucky to have you, Aelin."

"Aw." said her daughter loftily, making Evalin laugh. 

"Come along, now."

The house was beautiful. It had the simple, light structure Orynth lacked. The whole thing only looked about two stories high, but it was a sprawling house, huge, with several courtyards and inner chambers. Aelin had never seen anything like it.

An attendant took the light coats they had worn as another showed them to a large courtyard, lit by faerie lights and soft floating lantern. About thirty adults milled around, with small cups of drink.

Aelin watched the light die in Evalin's eyes. She watched her mother's spine straighten, the planes of her face harden. 

"Showtime." said Evalin to Aelin, a small smile flickering about her face before an iron wall slammed down on Evalin's expression, leaving her looking disinterested and more than a little terrifying. 

"Excuse me," said a quiet voice. Aelin turned to see the attendant trying to get her attention.

"Yeah?"

"The other girls are in the little courtyard. Would you like to join them?"

Aelin glanced at her mother, who shrugged, and nodded at the attendant. "Yeah, sure."

"I'll see you at dinner." said Evalin, before stalking forward, power in her walk.

"Yup." said Aelin, a little taken aback. She wasn't exactly sure why her mother was going on the offensive here.

The attendant led her to an adjacent courtyard, which had equally lovely lights and a garden. It also had Manon Blackbeak, who was holding court by a stone fountain. Aelin, taking her mother as inspiration, walked confidentally towards them.

Manon glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. "Galathynius."

"'Aelin's two less syllables." said Aelin. And then, "Deja vu, Blackbeak."

"'Manon' is-" she cut herself off, frowning. 

Aelin grinned. Manon rolled her eyes. "Alright, hello Aelin, would you like a drink?"

It was Aelin's turn to raise a brow.

"I'm your hostess." said Manon innocently. "It's my job."

"Will you spit in it?" asked Aelin flatly.

"Would you like me to?" shot back Manon.

Sorrel, to Manon's left, coughed slightly and handed Aelin a crystal flute of what looked like fruit punch. Aelin took it, nodding at the other Gryffindor.

"Hey, Sorrel, Vesta." she looked uncertainly at the rest of the thirteen, who were all staring at her. Unblinking. "Y'all."

" _Y'all_." echoed Manon, with soft disbelief. 

"Okay, this is already weird." declared Aelin. 

* * *

(Congratulations)

"Evalin!"

Ev turned to smile at Lee Kavill. "Hello, Lee. How are you?"

"Fine, all good." his smile dimmed. "Though I should be asking you that."

"You heard?" Evalin asked, lips pressing together.

"If I hadn't, I would've here." said Lee Kavill helplessly. "You're pretty big political gossip right now."

In a rare moment of genuinity, Evalin said, "I haven't told Aelin."

He clapped her on the shoulder. "Do not worry. This is not  _news_ news. This will not end up on a newspaper. It may, however, be the new 'hot gossip' for the next week or so."

She laughed breathlessly. "I can handle that for a little longer. Thank you, Kavill."

"Evalin Ashryver."

The cool voice sliced through the air. Evalin turned, that iron wall already up again. "Clotho. Thank you for inviting my family to your home."

"Thank you for attending." said Clotho Blackbeak. "I hear a congratulations are in order."

"Congratulations?"

"For your husband's promotion." said the older witch easily. 

Evalin said nothing, going very still.

Lee Kavill made a small sound. "Please, madam, have some empathy for her loss."

"Why?" said Clotho, turning to look at him. "What empathy? What empty condolences can I give her? Rhoe Galathynius has chosen a higher purpose. The work he will do to stabilize her state will make a great difference."

"But you must-"

"Thank you." Evalin cut across, eyes cold. "For the congratulations towards my husband." she turned to Lee. "And thank you for your consideration of my feelings. But Clotho's right. Both Rhoe and I knew exactly what we were doing."

"For the record," said Clotho. "I think you would've made a much better king."

"I really wouldn't have." said Evalin. 

The Blackbeak matriarch shrugged in  fluid motion. "I suppose I wouldn't know."

"No." said Evalin. "You wouldn't."

* * *

 (Mean Girls)

"Who're they?" asked Aelin, leaning in close to Manon. In the half hour they had spent together, the two had mellowed considerably. 

Aelin was referring to a troupe of girl, all wearing some shade of yellow, on the other end of the courtyard who had just arrived. Manon's group, in contrast, were in fierce shades of blacks and grays and whites, as far from the other girls as they could get. 

Manon's lip curled. "Yellowlegs."

"What?"

"Merlin, Galathynius, don't you read? They're another branch of Ironteeth." said Manon quietly. "And hush up. They can hear you."

"Who's that one?" asked Aelin, pointing at a small girl with lots of black hair and a wicked smile, seating precisely in the middle of the girls. 

Manon didn't even bother to look. "Iskra."

"And she is..." prompted Aelin.

Manon looked straight at the Yellowlegs girl-Iskra. "She's a _bi-_ "

"Excuse me."

Both girls turned to look coolly at the newcomer, a girl with porcelain skin and lovely dark hair, tied with a blue ribbon. Manon softened, but only by a fraction. 

"Hello, Petrah." said Manon. She glanced at Aelin, almost uncomfortable. "This is Aelin Galathynius. Aelin, this is Petrah Blueblood."

"I know you!" said Aelin brightly. "Your Dorian's friend."

"Yes." smiled Petrah. "I do know Dorian, we're in the same House. And I know of you too, despite us not meeting."

"Second year, right?" asked Aelin. "Well, third, now. You're in my cousin Aedion's year."

"That's correct." she looked back at Manon. "I just came to say hello. I'll be greeting the Yellowlegs now."

"Good luck with that." said Manon, frowning. As the Blueblood girl left, she turned to Asterin. "Hey-"

"What's up?" Asterin leaned closer.

"Can you ask Thea or Kaya whether or not Petrah's going to willingly support Iskra? Ghislaine wouldn't have noticed."

Asterin nodded, and stood, picking her way over to the two Ravenclaws.

"What do you mean 'support'?" asked Aelin, resting her chin on her hands. Manon looked at her, exasperated. 

"It's an Ironteeth thing."

"Explain it to me."

Manon sighed. "There's this thing. This position, in our clans. We call it Wing Leader. It's basically a really important spot, but the best of the best from all three clans compete when their fifteen to even be trained for the job. Petrah, Iskra and I are all being considered. It's a...dream." She frowned, unhappy with the word. "It's my destiny. I become Wing Leader, and my grandmother sends me to Mahoutokoro for training."

"Being considered?" Aelin frowned. "Y'all are  _eleven_. Well, I guess Petrah's twelve-"

" _I'm_ twelve." said Manon. "Iskra's ten."

"My point." said Aelin. "Isn't it a bit young?"

Manon shook her head. "This is the Ironteeth reality. It teaches our children discipline, because what we do in these early years dictate our position in the clans."

"That's crazy." said Aelin flatly. "And you shouldn't be so worried, you  _know_ you're going to win."

"What?"

"Come  _on_ , Manon. No one can possibly be as serious about this as you are. And well. No offense to her, but Petrah Blueblood is so not a match for me. You've already upped the power level."

Manon studied her, surprised. "Are you saying I'm a match for you?"

"On a good day." scoffed Aelin. " _Maybe_. If I were sick. Or dying."

A wicked grin spread across the other witch's face. "Oh, Aelin."

"Stop." said Aelin immediately. 

"This is so...what's the word?  _Sweet_." 

"Shut up." said Aelin, but it was a half laugh. 

"Petrah's neutral." declared Asterin, reclaiming her seat next to Manon. 

Aelin nodded. "What'd I tell you? Even one of your competitors knows she's no match."

Manon smiled into her drink.

* * *

 

(Wild Magic)

When they all sat down to dinner, at three massive table (one for the kids, one for the dignitaries, and one for the Blackbeak matriarchs), the air was as tense was ever. The three clans kid's weren't even looking at each other-Aelin had been overwhelmingly accepted into the Blackbeaks. Clotho Blackbeak, in some stroke of cruelty or stupidity had seat Adarlan Havilliard directly across from Evalin Ashryver. 

Nehemia Ytger, though given a seat at the table, was placed in a harmless end, next to Lee Kavill and a woman from the Dead Islands. She avoided Adarlan's gaze.

As the meal started, Adarlan leaned forward. "So," he said. "I heard your husband left you."

Evalin looked up at him, eyes calm. "I'm going to say this once, Havilliard."

A cruel smirk lit up his face. "Go ahead."

"You forget where I come from." she said, every word punctuated with cold iron and sea breeze. "You forget what runs through my blood. What I have been taught since my birth in the city of Varese-I am from a country of people  _your_ people write horror stories about. We are already political enemies. We became personal enemies when your men killed my sister and her family, years ago. Do not make this situation any worse for you."

No one usually saw it-the wolves in her voice. But Evalin was born and raised in Wendlyn, a land of creatures unknown and fearsome, a place Adarlan could never dream of conquering. She not only had fae blood, she was Wendlyn royalty.

Her message was clear; Evalin loved Terrasen. But with Rhoe gone, without him to curb her, she was pure wild magic. She'd tear him down, politics be damned.

Adarlan leaned back. Evalin began to eat.

* * *

(A Well Accomplished Spy)

"Hey!"

Nehemia looked up in surprise. "Aelin, I'm very happy to see you, but I don't think you're allowed to switch tables like that."

The Gryffindor shrugged, grinning. "Whatever. Manon's tired of me, so I'm here. Also, it's a little tense back there."

Nehemia pressed her lips together and shrugged, glancing up the table where Evalin an Adarlan were eating, staring at each other in stony silence. Aelin followed her gaze, eyes widening.

"Damn, whoever made this seating chart is where Manon gets it from."

"I agree, this is a bit too much." said the man next to Nehemia, frowning. He stuck out a hand for Aelin to shake. "Lee Kavill. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Hi, my mom talks about you a lot." said Aelin, shaking his hand.

"She talks about you a great deal more, my dear girl." 

Aelin beamed at him. "So how bout that Light person, right?"

Nehemia coughed into her water. "W-what?"

But Aelin was still focused on Lee Kavill. "My mom said it might be someone from Fenharrow."

"Fenharrow?" said Nehemia. 'That's...plausible."

"I would like that very much." agreed Kavill. 

"So it's  _not_ you?" pressed Aelin.

"No, child, the writer was clearly female. And if I had written that, I'd put my name on it."

"Hm." said Aelin, clearly disappointed. She looked at Nehemia. "Have you read it?"

"Of course I've read it, it's everywhere." said Nehemia weakly. "It's very, ah, well written."

"I agree!"

"Isn't this a lovely appetizer?" said Nehemia loudly, looking at her plate.

* * *

 

(Wrong pt 2)

"You know, I still don't get this whole Wing Leader thing, but I hope you get it." said Aelin as Manon walked her to the door. Evalin was getting their coats.

"That's appreciated, but there's still a while before anything is settled." said Manon. 

"Yeah?" said Aelin. "But it's still a little too harsh of a concept for me. I wouldn't like to be involved."

But if you were, thought Manon, you'd never leave without the title. "You should understand a little more, I thought."

Aelin frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You know." said Manon. "With your father and all."

The Gryffindor froze. "My-what?"

"Your father." said Manon, raising her eyebrows. "I assume you've heard of him."

"I-what do you mean?" it came out a little harsher than she expected, but Aelin glared at Manon. "What did you mean by that?"

"What did I mean?" repeated Manon, surprised. "I just-"

It hit her. Aelin didn't know. She didn't know her father had just...Manon's eyes widened. "I didn't mean anything."

"Yes, you did." said Aelin sharply. "Tell me!"

Over Aelin's shoulder, Manon could see Evalin Ashryver putting her coat on. She was such a strong woman, someone Manon looked up to on the down low, and she hadn't even told Aelin she would never see her own father again. 

Aelin snapped in front of Manon's face, still glaring. " _Manon_."

"I really didn't mean anything." said Manon. If it was her, she wouldn't want to find out like this. She would wait until Evalin told Aelin herself. "I just meant cause he was on a business trip right now."

Aelin blinked, some of the anger dying down. "Really?"

Manon looked directly at her. "I wouldn't lie," she lied. 

"Okay." said Aelin. "Sorry. I didn't meant to jump down your throat."

"It's fine." said Manon, pushing her in the shoulder. "Go, get out of my house."

This got a little grin from Aelin as she stuck out her tongue and turned to join her mother at the door. Manon's gaze fell back on Evalin, beautiful in forest green, Respect for a family's private affairs was one thing, but if she didn't tell Aelin by the time they went back to school-well, then, Manon would take matters into her own hands.

* * *

 

(Doing Good Work)

It wasn't sitting right. 

Manon's hasty switch. Nehemia being so jittery. The way Aedion always changed the subject when she mentioned her father.

It just wasn't sitting right,

It was raining, and Aelin was alone in the house to think. Something was wrong, something had gone wrong, why was no one  _telling_ her?

"Aelin, I'm home!" The front door slammed shut downstairs. 

Aelin stood up, and moved like she was sleepwalking down the stairs and to the kitchen, where her mother was laying a wet cloak to dry on a chair. "Oh, there you are, I was wondering-"

Evalin cut herself off as she looked up at Aelin. She just realized that she had been crying. "Aelin?"

"Mum." said Aelin, voice shaking, tears threatening to spill. Something was  _wrong_ , and no one was telling her, and damn it all, she was scared! "Mum, where's Dad?"

Evalin froze.

"Where is he?" her voice cracked. "He's-he's not in Fenharrow, is he? This isn't-where is he?"

"Aelin-"

"Tell me!"

Evalin Ashryver prided herself on making intelligent decisions. She was about to make another one.

Aelin was crying openly now. "Everyone's been dancing around the topic, and Aedion won't look at you, and Manon bloody Blackbeak knows more than I do, and-"

"Aelin." said Evalin again, voice firm. She knew what she had to do. "Listen to me."

Her daughter lifted a tearful face up to look at her.

"Your father's not coming back."

Aelin's face crumpled. "What?"

Evalin felt cold. Her hands were numb. "He's not coming back." and then a deep breath, and a thousand apologies to the man she loved. "Rhoe left us, Aelin."

"No." said Aelin. "That doesn't-that doesn't make  _sense_."

"I know." said Evalin, the lie coming so easily she felt as though she needed to vomit. "He left  _me_. You were-I'm sorry. I couldn't tell you. But he's not coming back."

 _He's doing good work_.

Aelin, face stricken, shocked, slid down to sit on the pocelain floor. 

"I'm sorry." said Evalin, before walking out of the room. She paused at the door. "This is the way it has to be."

 _He's doing good work_.

"I'm sorry."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> something super weird happened...the notes on my hogwarts headcanons post lined up with the hits on here and that's mostly why i got super motivated to write. I'm sorry this is late guys!!! i can't believe it took me a month to write, but break started and now i work and stuff...life is hard it keeps happening.  
> (a little upset Chaol didn't make it in this one? i miss him)
> 
> ANYWAY LOOK AT THIS COOL THING I'M DOING: I'm one of the admins of the first ever tog mini bang!! It's a cool creative exchange between writers and artists. Look it up on tumblr, sign ups are done but def follow the content as it comes out! 
> 
> see y'all on the flip side


	13. Lucky/Unlucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aelin Ashryver, she tried mentally. Hm. It sounded a little old-timey. “Aelin Ashryver.” she said aloud, paying attention to how it sounded.
> 
> The answer was clear; not as good as Aelin Galathynius .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PREVIOUSLY ON PLTLWM: Rhoe Galathynius has become the King of Terrasen, and this is such a complicated thing to explain to a twelve year old Evalin told Aelin that he left them. Predictably, Aelin's in denial of how messed up she is. Nehemia wrote a beautiful article about race relations and is gonna follow that one up. Also, it's almost time for school.

**Chapter 13 - Lucky/Unlucky**

or

"Something To Believe In"

Aelin had pen poised over paper, sucking her cheeks in, trying very hard to think of appropriate conversation to send to Dorian. She knew she couldn't actually send the letter, but planned on saving everything she wrote for him that summer and giving them all to him when term started.

Only a month till school began, and Aelin found herself missing Hogwarts more than ever. She thought for a moment, and then added that to the very short letter. Unfortunately, she missed Dorian and Chaol very much, and despite initial plans to meet with them in Diagon Alley, it had never happened.

 _It's very rude of you and Chaol to forget me_ , she wrote. _It's rather impossible to forget me, and yet you two have managed it. When we get to Hogwarts again, will you ignore me like you've done this summer?_

It wasn't very fair, and she hoped they saw the sarcasm. Otherwise, it was just rude.

_Anyway, I'll be telling you about my day. Can I just tell you about my day for just a second? Okay so Aedion came over, and we hung out. I beat him in chess, finally. And then I read for a bit while he was doing something else. And then mum called us to lunch. Hmm. Maybe my day was a little boring._

_Okay, what if I tell you about my ~~bastard father, then~~ Quidditch scores? Aedion taught me this Gryffindor Team patented way of catching the Quaffle, and I'm so excited to try it out on a real pitch._

Aelin absentmindedly scribbled that bit out, drawing a flower over it.

 

 

Aedion stumbled over the last few steps to the kitchen, but found the eldest Ashryver woman sitting at the table instead of his cousin.

"Oh." he said.

Evalin glanced up at him. "Hey, hon. Coffee?"

He nodded, joining her at the oak table. "What kind of coffee?"

"Hm?" Evalin raised an eyebrow. "The only type of coffee there is."

"Aelin puts all kinds of syrup and stuff in hers at school." he dutifully reported.

Evalin's eyebrows hit her hairline. "She drinks coffee at school? She's eleven. That girl..."

"Should she not?"

"No she should not." said Evalin firmly. "Speaking of our eleven year old, though, do you know what she wants for her birthday?"

Aedion nodded. Aelin had handed him a list a week ago just in case Evalin had asked. "New Chaser gloves, a cool chess set, preferably made of solid gold or ivory or something, a couple books-I'll get you the list."

"Hm." said Evalin. "She made the list early this year."

"I think she had a lot to add."

"I'm not buying her a solid gold chess set."

"I think she knew that one was a long shot."

"Well good." said Evalin, setting down her mug. There was a pause, in which she pressed her lips together. "Aedion, is she alright?"

'Alright' wasn't the correct word. Aedion frowned, and shook his head. "No. But she's okay, I think."

"She's not dealing, is she?"

"I don't think so."

Evalin's expression, normally so poised and polished, crumpled. "Merlin..."

"She'll be fine." said Aedion hurriedly. What was the protocol here? Did he comfort her? How would he comfort her? "Really. It's Aelin. She's going to be okay."

"Well, you do know her best." said Evalin said softly.

He didn't quite know what to say to that, either.

“Things will get easier.” said Evalin, standing up to dump her coffee in the sink. “They will. Especially when school starts again.”

He didn't say anything there, either. His aunt seemed too tightly wound to be comforted, and he was a little confused by the idea of it getting _easier_ for Evalin when Aelin was no longer directly under her nose. Aedion stood up.

“I''ll get you that list.”

She looked at him, slightly taken aback. “Of course.”

“Bye, Aunt Ev.”

“Goodbye, Aedion.”

* * *

 

_Dear Sorscha,_

_How are you?_

_I mean, in general. It's so strange it's almost been the whole summer, and we haven't spoken! It's a huge difference from what we used to do, right? So, hopefully you can write back before we're on the H. Express, and hopefully we can have a little bit on conversation without it getting awkward in person._

_So, my summer has been okay. I haven't really seen anyone except Chaol. Manon had a dinner and she invited all her gang and Aelin and Nehemia, but I was spending the weekend with my mum and I didn't go. I wish I did though, I wanted to talk to them at least once. It's strange, you never really think you're going to miss Manon Blackbeak or like, Ghislaine, but I do._

_I've been writing to both of them, actually. At least I plan on it, but I figured you should come first. I've got maybe two paragraphs to Manon that says absolutely nothing. There's a high percentage she'll look at the letter, scoff, and them burn it. That’s just how she is, I suppose._

_But I’m talking too much about myself. How are_ _you?_ _And what’s going on in your life? I don’t suppose you’ve seen anyone this summer?_

_Let me know when you’re heading to Diagon Alley, and we’ll see if we can meet up!! Please write soon._

_Much love,_

_Dorian_

* * *

(Burn Up A Basement Full of Demons)

Nehemia was rubbing a thick layer of lip balm onto her lips when Archer Finn slid into the seat in front of her, in the busy Diagon Alley ice cream parlour.

“Hey.” she said. It was getting colder up north.

“Hey,” he said, sullen. He had changed a little over the past few months, and for the better. His chestnut hair had grown out, he had hit a truly terrifying growth spurt, and the angles of his face seemed slightly more aligned, slightly more classical. But the expression on his face was exactly the same.

Somehow, it soothed Nehemia. At least Archer’s bad mood was a constant.

“How are you?”

He shot her a look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’m being _polite_ , Finn. Come on, I don’t have all day here.” said Nehemia.

“Whatever.” said Archer, looking away. “Is it cool that we’re seen in the Alley together?”

“We don’t have to be covert, Archer.” said Nehemia. “We’re in the same year at school, and it’s customary for school mates to go shopping for new year things together, anyway.”

“Does this mean we can stop being covert at school?”

“We never really were, see?” she sighed. “I mean, about important matters absolutely, but we can be seen sitting next to each other. It really doesn’t matter. The student body doesn’t care.”

Archer wrinkled his nose. “I guess.”

“Mh-hm.” said Nehemia. “So, do you have an update for me?”

“Hamel is doing something.” said Archer darkly. “He’s-”

Nehemia held up a hand. “What?”

“What?”

“Since when were we investigating Arobynn Hamel?” asked Nehemia. “I know that thing Murtaugh was looking into about him was weird, but that’s not our job.”

“As long as he’s tutoring your girl, it is.” retorted Archer. “He may be an Adarlan sympathizer, and it’s not safe to leave her around him.”

“Sound logic.” said Nehemia, after a pause. “But it’s not exactly on the schedule. Never mind, what’s he been doing?”

“He’s investing in a business in Rifthold.”

“Everyone has business in Rifthold, it’s where Havilliard lives.” said Nehemia.

“I mean _a lot_ of money, Nehemia. I think he’s shifting his base of operations there.”

“And by base of operations, you mean...”

Archer sucked in his cheeks. “That thing Murtaugh was looking into? It checks out. It’s like he’s...starting a mercenary service.”  
She leaned forward, voice going low. “ _What?_ ”

“I don’t know enough right now.” said Archer quickly. “I just know a lot of Rifthold businesses are allying with him if he invests in them.”

“Like whom, Archer?”

Archer swallowed, hard. “Have you ever heard of Lady Clarisse?”

* * *

(Ashryver)

“Aelin, honey, would you like to come to town with me?” Evalin called into the library, sticking her head in.

Her daughter was frozen, hand outstretched to reach for a book.

Evalin frowned, stepping in. “Aelin?”

Slowly, the girl lowered her hand and turned. “Sorry, what was that?”

“I’m going to Diagon Alley for some supplies.” said Evalin gently. “Would you like to come?”

“Oh, no thanks, mum.” said Aelin. She still looked a little disoriented. “I’ve still got a lot of reading to do. You know. I read. _A lot_.”

Her mother grinned. “Stop fishing, dear, Aedion told me what books you want for your birthday.”

Recovered, Aelin twirled a lock of her hair between her fingers. “What?” she exclaimed, obviously sarcastic. “I’ve no clue what you mean. I suppose you’re _right_ , my birthday _is_ coming up...”

Evalin laughed, shooing her away. “Go, child. I’ll be back in an hour”

Her daughter smiled impishly, took a thin novel off the shelf, and headed over to a couch out of sight.

Ev paused, pursing her lips, and after a moment headed to the shelf Aelin was just in front of. She leaned down, searching, and gasped softly.

 _Enchanted Slippers_.

Oh. _Oh_.

Rhoe’s favorite book to read to Aelin. The book where Aelin’s hero, smart mouthed Princess Lillian fought in a war despite being considered a delicate girl. A princess who didn’t marry a prince, because she didn’t much care for him.

Aelin’s favorite book.

Evalin felt like every bone, every muscle in her body tensed. She took a deep breath, and slipped _Enchanted Slippers_ off the shelf and tucked it into the deep pockets of her robes.

“I’m going now, Aelin!” she yelled.

Aelin’s voice came somewhere in the library, muffled. “Bye!”

“Bye.” said Evalin, leaving the library as fast as she could.

 

 

The grand doors to the library slammed shut behind Evalin, and Aelin immediately put her book down, sighing.

How was she supposed to explain the awful, crushed feeling she got at the sight of that book? And to her mother, the woman who her ass of a father had wronged the most?

She wished- she wished she could be normal around Evalin again. But every time Aelin looked at her mum, all she saw was the expression on her face when she said that her father wasn’t coming back.

That he had left them both.

A flash of anger struck Aelin, and she leaned back on the couch, glaring at nothing in particular.

She had been upset at Aedion over a single conversation for over a month. Rhoe Galathynius had _no_ idea what was coming to him if he inspired her wrath.

Feeling angry felt better than being numb. Aelin pursed her lips, looking exceptionally like her mother. She didn’t want to think about her dad, didn’t want to wish he was back, wanted nothing to do with him.

But he was written all over her. Aelin had her mother’s hair and eyes- the Ashryver line bred true- but her father’s _everything else_. She could look in the mirror without seeing his jaw, his nose, even his smile, in hers.

And what, thought Aelin with horror, was it like for her _mother_ to look at her?

She wanted absolutely nothing to do with him.

Aelin Ashryver, she tried mentally. Hm. It sounded a little old-timey. “Aelin Ashryver.” she said aloud, paying attention to how it sounded.

The answer was clear; _not as good as Aelin Galathynius_.

* * *

 (Brilliant)

“So,” said Archer slowly, as they left the bookstore with everything they needed for a fifth year at Hogwarts. “Are we gonna talk about it?”

“About what?” asked Nehemia, trying to untangle one of her bracelets from her shirt. It had somehow gotten caught.

Archer waited until she was done. When Nehemia looked up at him, he said, “Outrage and Imperialism-”

“Oh, alright.” said Nehemia, rolling her eyes. “I get it. It was risky. Murtaugh already talked me through it, okay?”

WHen he said nothing, she glared at him. “What? Spit it out, okay?”

“I didn’t think it was risky.” said Archer, shrugging. “I thought it was brilliant.”

Not much could startle Nehemia Ytger. And yet. Her mouth fell open to form a little ‘o’. “You what?”

“I think it was great.” said Archer. “Really drummed up a lot of anti-Adarlan sentiment, not only in the Prophet but just...around.”

Nehemia bit her lip to keep from grinning like a fool. “I know. It really did.”

“So as long as you pretended to be appropriately apologetic to Murtaugh-”

“Oh, I did. I wallowed and everything.”

“Then you’re good.” said Archer, with something that could’ve been a smile. “Are you going to write another?”

Nehemia sighed. “I don’t know. I thought about it, but I mean...it’s actually risky this time. Doing it twice...”

“I think you should go for it.” said Archer. “The _Prophet_ is practically foaming at the mouth to get a hold of you.”

“I was so surprised they printed it.” Nehemia admitted. “Do you think..do you think there’s going to be backlash.”

“Always, everywhere.” he said bluntly. “Don’t worry about it. You’re doing more good than bad.”

“If you’re sure.” said Nehemia doubtfully. “Maybe I should clear it with Murtaugh first.”

Archer scoffed. “That stuffy old man?”

“Hey,” objected Nehemia, but she smiled. “We owe him, remember?”

“Yeah. But he _is_ stuffy.”

“Stuffy he is.” agreed Nehemia sagely.

“So if you _do_ write another, what’ll it be about?”

Her eyes narrowed. “This ridiculous bid for Minister he’s making.”

“Ah.” said Archer, nodding. “Good. Put a stop to all that.”

“Oh, I plan on it.” said Nehemia, surprising even herself with the edge in her voice. “One way or another.”

Archer gave her a thin smile. “One way or another.”

* * *

 (Absence of Sanity)

 Later that week, all was quiet in the  _Daily Prophet_ newsroom. Or, at least, as quiet as a newsroom could be. Marion Lochan was sitting cross-legged in her walled off office. Her husband sat across from her.

"Where's Elide?" asked Marion, skimming through drafts so quickly her eyes blurred.

"At Ev's. You know, I think our daughters actually like each other now."

"About time." said Marion. "But Aelin's always had such a  _strong_ personality..."

Cal raised an eyebrow at her. 

"Yes, yes, I know our daughter can spit barbed wire back at anyone she's not fond of." said Marion absently. "It was that nursemaid of hers. We were never that acidic."

"Mare, love, I adore you, but she takes after you completely."

Marion smiled a tiny smile, but didn't look up from her work. "Should I take that as an insult or compliment?"

"Compliment, always."

"Have you spoken to Evalin recently?" asked Marion after a brief pause.

"Ev?" Cal looked surprised. "Not really. She's your best friend."

"Yes, well." she put down her quill and looked up. "To be completely honest, I'm not sure how to treat her anymore."

Cal got up and poured his wife a glass of water from the pitcher on a desk by the door. He handed it to her. "Treat like always. You know that's the best way to get her to her normal self."

"Maybe I'll have dinner with her sometimes." Marion sighed. "It's just that...I feel so lucky, you know? In the face of her misfortune. I'm  _so_ grateful it wasn't you."

Cal's golden eyes dimmed slightly. "Mare..."

"I know." said Marion slowly. "And I know you miss him too, but, well. I'm just so happy El isn't going through what Aelin must be."

"She told Aelin that Rhoe left them." said Cal quietly.

Marion gasped. "What?"

"Aelin knew something was wrong. Ev's always been good at thinking on her feet, so she told the girl that Rhoe left them. Without saying goodbye."

"That's  _awful_."

"Would you have been able to do that?" asked Cal, serious. "If it was me? If it was Elide?"

"Elide would never ask outright."

"Mare."

"No." snapped his wife. " _Never_." 

"Then it's a good thing it was Rhoe, in the end."

"That's awful." said Marion again. "Just awful. Merlin. I wonder how she is, I'll write her as soon as I can."

"That's smart." said Cal. "I'm sure she's going crazy without Rhoe to siphon off the stress."

"You're right." said Marion sadly. "I need to check she's still sane."

"Sane?" Cal gave a bitter laugh. "Ev?  _Never_."

* * *

 (High Heels)

Sixteen year old Evalin Ashryver had hated high heeled shoes. Anything, boots, sandals, pumps- if she couldn't run a four minute mile in them, they were no good.

Sixteen year old Evalin was a bit of a jock.

Now, however, as a mother and an aunt, as a respected member of society, Evalin found comfort in the satisfying  _click_ of heels made, and the way they could intimidate so thoroughly that when coupled with her insane height, Evalin was virtually unstoppable. 

Today, she needed it.

She walked through the corridors of the Ministry, long stride, eyes burning, absolutely  _furious_. You could tell by the  _click-click_ of her heels and the cold, imperious look on her fact. A yellow slip of paper was crumpled in her right fist, the same one she used to bang on her supervisor's door. 

Evalin knocked three times and pushed the door open, not bothering to wait for a response. Her supervisor, startled, was smoking a cigar, his feet up on his desk. He nearly choked at the sight of her.

"Ashryver!"

"Hello, old man." said Evalin, closing the door.

The Head of the Department of International Relations was an old balding man by the name of Gunnar. He was Terrasen born, but removed enough from the main political aspect that he didn't care who or what Evalin was. Gunnar believed in hard work and working ones way up in the system, like he had done. He did, however, look properly chastised as he quickly removed his feet from his desk.

"That was hardly a knock, Evalin." he said reproachfully, folding his arms. "I knew you'd make a scene."

"Then you shouldn't have sent me this." seethed Evalin. "This is  _not_ acceptable." 

"You're my second in command. You go where I tell you. Acceptable has nothing to do with it."

She threw the yellow slip down on his desk. "I  _cannot_ go to Fenharrow for two months! And the fact that you sent me a bloody note, didn't even have the decency to discuss it with me-"

"You get along with Lee just fine." said Gunnar mildly. "I don't see the problem."

"I adore Lee Kavill, yes, but honestly, Gunnar, I have a  _daughter_. An eleven year old child. I'm not leaving."

"Eleven? She's Hogwarts age?" He went back to his cigar. "Why, that's alright then."

Evalin swelled up with anger. " _Gunnar._ "

"What, Ashryver?" snapped her supervisor. "I told you you're going, so you're going. You leave well after your daughter will go to school. You have no excuses."

"I have Terrasen." replied Evalin hotly. "Merlin, I practically  _am_ the court right now, and my husband isn't in the picture right now, and I need to take care of my kid. I cannot go."

"Your political affiliations do not interfere with your ability to do your job, Ashryver."

"They're  _your_ affiliations too!"

"Hardly." He snorted. "If you're really having trouble, tell Darrow to pick up some of the slack."

Evalin went red. "I can't do that."

"Is there anything you  _can_ do, Ashryver?" Gunnar sighed. "I support you, alright? I know you'll be taking over for me when I retire. But for right now, you need to  _listen to me_."

Evalin blinked. "Fine." she said curtly, before pointing at the yellow slip of paper and lighting it on fire.

Gunnar yelped, fumbling for his wand, but Evalin was already out the door. 

As she stalked through the corridors once more, Evalin found herself quickly losing steam. She quickly hurried to her own, slightly smaller office, slamming the door shut and collapsing in her chair. Evalin groaned, loudly, and ran her hands through her hair before remembering that it took thirty minutes to pull her hair into this complicated updo. 

She planted her face in her arms and kicked off her heels, allowing herself precisely two minutes to breath and wallow and feel sad. After the 180 seconds had passed, Evalin took a deep breath, Conjured a mirror and a brush, and began fixing her hair.

After she was presentable again, Evalin left her office, intending to apologize to Gunnar and try once more to  _not_ go to Fenharrow. 

She didn't know what was wrong with her. She was normally so good at this job, and then suddenly she blows up like that? To her  _boss_? It wasn't acceptable. 

Evalin rounded the corner, so deep in thought she didn't even notice the other person standing right at the corner. Evalin walked straight into him, smacking into his shoulder.

"Ow." she stumbled back, shaking her head. "Sor-"

The man turned, and Evalin's words fell straight out her mouth. 

Adarlan.

She straightened, eyeing him coolly. They were the exact same height. 

"Well, if it isn't the scourge of Wendlyn." said Adarlan dryly.

A powerful wave of absolute hate flowed through her, and Evalin took slow, even breaths to temper herself. "Ah, look what the dregs of high society dragged in." 

"Eloquent."

"What are you doing here, Havilliard?" asked Evalin. Her rage from the Blackbeak dinner hadn't shifted at all. This was the man who took her husband away from her daughter. 

"What are  _you_?"

"I work here." she said evenly. 

"So will I, soon."

Evalin smiled, slow. "Ah, right. You're still crazy enough to believe in that mad bid for Minister."

He smiled in response, equally chilling. "It's not mad if it works."

"You keep telling yourself that." Evalin was rather proud of how controlled she was being. So, apparently, was he.

"So what happened to the woman I met at the dinner party we attended?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"You are from a place I write horror stories about." said Adarlan, no inflection in his voice. "Something or other."

"My apologies, I get a little poetic when I'm angry." 

"Ah, understandable."

"Adarlan." said Evalin, taking a step closer. "You have taken nearly every member of my family from me. Do not mistake, I will rip you to shreds, politics be damned, if I see fit. However, we are at my place of work, and I'm very busy. I cannot spend time rending you limb from limb."

Her dispassionate tone seemed to get at him a little. This was a battle won in her favor. "Goodbye, Havilliard." 

"Until next time, Ashryver." he called. 

"I hope not."

* * *

 (Do You Remember Me?)

Sorscha's bedroom in Fenharrow was plain, but well decorated, and even though she had barely spent two weeks there, she found it more inviting than the Ravenclaw dorms. Maybe it was because of the wooden shutters that didn't manage to keep the sunlight out. The whole place was just  _bright_.

The walls were powdery drywall, that bled white into the corners of the room. There was a Rajastani painting Sorscha wished she knew the origin of hanging on the door. There were several bright quilts folded on the thin cot, and a desk made of thin plywood against the wall. On the desk was an envelope, ripped open. 

It's contents- a letter- was folded in her right hand. Sorscha sighed, sitting on the cot. She unfolded the letter, fingers tracing the creases. 

It was so sweet of Dorian to write to her. Really, really sweet. It was too bad she couldn't write back. Sorscha lay the letter aside. She would burn it later. Instead, she took up the copy of the  _Daily Prophet_ that had been smuggled in for her, reading the bit of Nehemia's newest work they had published.

Even if Murtaugh  _hadn't_ written to her about 'Light', Sorscha would've figured it out. Honestly, it was a bit silly for her to have taken this chance in the first place. When a lot of people knew your writing, you shouldn't publish it anonymously. She sighed. And it read just like the way Nehemia spoke when she got incensed about something. 

But, well, no one serious had figured it out, at least. Sorscha could focus on the fact that the name, 'Light', that Nehemia had chosen was definitely a call back to her. She remembered a year ago, speaking to Nehemia in the Ravenclaw dorms, trying to convince her of her worth as a leader.

And it was almost time to go back to Hogwarts. She shuddered at the thought of reentering that spycraft.

Yes, she'd get to see people she cared about again, but it was hard. It was hard, growing up like this.

A cold wind blew in from the window, and even though Fenharrow was quite warm, Sorscha knew this was a sign of September.

Her job would come. She just had to wait.

* * *

 (Mint Chocolate Chip/Cherry Garcia)

" _Chaol Westfall!"_

Chaol turned to see Aelin Galathynius expertly crowd surf through the busy streets of Diagon Alley. He gave her a blinding smile, raising his arm in welcome. 

Aelin fought her way to her friend, who was looking very tan. She latched onto his arm, nearly knocking him over. 

"Hey, A."

"Hi!" She beamed up at him. "You got tall!"

He huffed. "It's only two inches."

"Yeah, two inches _tall_."

"Let's get ice cream." Chaol declared loudly. "We need food."

"Don't you know ice cream isn't food, Westfall?"

"Yeah? I can name at least  _five_ conversations we had last year where you insisted it was."

From there, Aelin delighted to find that there was no awkward catch up period. They just leapt right back into talking, same as always. As if the last few months didn't even happen. As they slid into booths for ice cream, the ta;l turned back to Hogwarts.

"I can't believe we're going back tomorrow." said Chaol.

"I can't wait." admitted Aelin. "I really think...I need to get away from home soon."

He frowned. "That's not like you, you actually get along with your parents."

"Yeah," said Aelin, laughing unconvincingly. "But it's just, different, you know? Being at Hogwarts makes me miss them."

"I think I know what you mean." said Chaol, but he still looked doubtful. Aelin twisted her mouth.

"Alright, I gotta tell you something."

"What's up?"

Her eyes narrowed, and Aelin leaned forward. "My parents. They aren't, um, happy."

Chaol frowned. "I'm not sure what you mean."

How was she supposed to explain something she didn't fully understand herself? Aelin shook her head, trying to foist down her bitterness. "My dad left us. Before summer started."

His jaw dropped. " _What?_ "

"My mum didn't tell me until a few weeks ago, she said he was on a business trip. But I mean come on, I'm not stupid, so I asked, and she told me."

"Hey." Chaol's face was all concern, and it made Aelin's stomach twist uncomfortably. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." she said immediately. "I'm just mad, I guess. And confused."

He looked like he was going to give her a hug or something, so Aelin quickly excused herself. "I'm gonna order."

"Right, me too-"

"Nah, it's on me." Aelin waved him off. "Vanilla?"

"Mint." said Chaol. 

She flashed him a grin. "So looks like you  _have_ gone through some character development. At least in terms of ice cream."

Chaol stuck his tongue out at her. Aelin laughed, and then went to the man at counter. As soon as she left, his face fell.

Rhoe Galathynius had left his family? Chaol had only met the man once, but his devotion to at least his daughter was strong enough that even he could see it. It didn't make sense. 

Neither did Aelin's apparent apathy. He liked to think he knew her pretty well, after a year of living together. Chaol knew that Aelin got angry, not sad, and he remembered the aftermath of the Ashryver/Galathynius rift pretty well. 

It didn't make sense. It didn't feel right. Before he could think the issue to death, Aelin sat back down, two ice cream cones in hand. She handed him the pale green one, and kept her own pink one for herself.

"Cherry? Not chocolate?"

Aelin shrugged.

"Looks like you went through some character development too." said Chaol quietly.

She smiled at him, lips covered in a ring of pink. "I guess so."

* * *

 (Break)

 September first felt like any other day.

Aelin was fully packed (she had been for weeks), and Evalin neatly Apparated them to the station. 

"Are you ready?" asked her mother.

Aelin, now twelve, nodded. "Yeah. I think so."

"Are you nervous?" Evalin pressed. "Cause it's alright if you are."

She smiled. "No, mum, I'm not nervous."

"Just making sure, kiddo." Evalin wrapped an arm around her daughter's shoulders. "I remember how I used to feel about Hogwarts. After seven years, it feels more like home than home did. So I get it."

Home stopped feeling like home a long time ago. But Aelin pasted a smile on her face. "I should get on the train."

"Yes, you're right, it's only ten to eleven." 

Evalin helped Aelin hoist up her trunk and get it onto the train. Aelin hopped up at the door, nodding at her mother, who cupped her face in both hands. 

"You're gonna be okay, baby." said Evalin firmly. "I know that things have been hard, but you're gonna be okay. We all are."

Aelin just looked away. Evalin sighed, enveloping her in a hug. "I love you, my girl."

"Love you too." said Aelin, voice muffled. "I'll be fine in the castle."

"I know, Aelin." Ev pulled away. "I believe in you fully."

Her daughter smiled weakly. 

"Study hard. Make friends." Evalin smiled. "Get on the damn Quidditch team."

"No one could keep me from that team." said Aelin seriously, before laughing. "Bye, mum."

"Goodbye, my girl."

 

After the train had stuttered, and jolting into motion, Aelin hurried down the carriage corridor, trying to find her friends. Chaol said he'd be by the bathrooms, but she couldn't find him at all.

"Aelin!"

"Hi, Ansel, I'll see you tonight!" called Aelin over her shoulder as she passed a group of Gryffindor girls. 

"Galathynius-"

 _This_ voice made her turn. With her head stuck out of a compartment, Manon Blackbeak peered after her.

"Blackbeak." said Aelin, slowing in front of her. "Hey."

Manon was searching her face for some reason, squinting at her. "You alright?"

Aelin raised an eyebrow. "That's a weird question to ask."

"Not when you look like  _that_."

"I look  _fine_ , Manon." Aelin rolled her eyes. "It's been a rough summer."

Manon's expression cleared. "Okay. I'll see you at the feast then."

And she slammed the sliding door in Aelin's face.

Aelin blinked. Huh. Weird and rude. Textbook Manon Blackbeak, she supposed. She continued searching the compartments for any sign of someone she liked. At the second to last compartment she slid open, however, she found a very welcome sight.

" _Dorian?"_

The boy looked up, already dressed in Ravenclaw blue, and beamed a startlingly white grin at her. "Aelin!"

But Aelin had already all but thrown herself into his arms. "I missed you!"

"Woah-me too, A." Dorian laughed, and Aelin buried her head into his shoulder. "Chaol's gone to get some snacks." he said casually, unsticking her from his person.

Aelin beamed, her first real smile in a while, and sat down next to him. "Oh, don't bother with Chaol."

He smiled back at her, before digging a hand into his pocket. "Oh, I got you something."

"You didn't have to-"

"Happy late birthday, Aelin." he removed a small package, badly wrapped, and handed it to her.

Aelin pursed her lips. "Well, if you already  _did..."_

Dorian laughed as she unwrapped it. "It's small, but it's something."

Nestled in the gray paper was a ring. It was delicate, silver, carved with small leaf patterns and, right in the center, a stag's head. Aelin sobered, staring at it. "Dorian..."

"It reminded me of you."

Aelin was never going to be just Aelin Ashryver. The Galathynius was part of her forever, written in her blood and her soul. Aelin looked up, at Dorian, and suddenly found it very hard to breathe. 

Dorian was looking at her with concern, and she really studied him. His hair was a little longer, his face more angular. He looked like he had dropped weight. There were shadows under his eyes that mirrored her own.

He was the only person, possibly, who could really understand.

Without warning, Aelin burst into tears. She pressed her hands to her face, sobbing loudly, tears streaming down her face and her neck.

Dorian said nothing, just pulled her into a hug.  _He knew_ , she realized, still crying into his blue tie.  _He knew about my father._

"You'll be fine." said Dorian quietly. "It seems hard now, but you'll find a balance."

Aelin linked her arms around his neck, tucking herself firmly into him. 

"You haven't cried yet, have you?" said Dorian. "It's fine. I kinda expected that of you. Get it all out now."

He unlinked her arms, picked up the ring from her lap, and slid it onto her pointer finger. Aelin, still crying, looked quizzically up at him. 

"You need to remember." said Dorian. "You can't just drop the part of you that's, well, him. It's part of you. Use it."

Aelin violently rubbed a hand across her eyes, feeling the weight of the stag ring press into her skin. 

"Thank you, Dorian."

"Anytime, A."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im ded

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [cosmicrhetoric](http://cosmicrhetoric.tumblr.com) on tumblr, say hello!


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